Where You Go
by Virginia Gale
Summary: This story follows the Grey Wardens in their struggles against the Blight. Slightly AU in that it will include characters from multiple origins, focusing primarily on Cousland twins. Multiple pairings but mainly FemCousland/Alistair and MCousland/Surana.
1. Prologue

_**Author's Note:**_ This is my first fan fiction in several years, so I would appreciate any feedback. I will be keeping to the basic plot of Dragon Age: Origins, but I have added a few twists, especially with regard to the number of main characters. My main focus will probably tend to stay on FemCousland/Alistair, as this was my favorite way to play through the game, but I will try to cover multiple stories and pairings from various perspectives. The story is rated M for violence, language, and sexual content that will appear in later chapters.

_**Disclaimer:**_ Bioware owns everything Dragon Age.

* * *

It had been many years since Duncan had visited Highever, yet it seemed as if so little had changed. The wind from the north carried with it the familiar scent of the sea and the sound of gulls. The blossoming flowers in the fields surrounding the castle once again offered the first signs of an approaching spring. And the people—the people of Highever still went about their lives with a sense of pride and duty that could only be instilled by the efforts of an honorable and inspiring leader.

_No,_ _Highever has not changed, _Duncan thought as he entered the great hall of the castle. _Bryce Cousland wouldn't have allowed it._

Yet, just as Duncan was slipping into nostalgia, he saw something that he had never before seen in the great hall. Two fighters, in what appeared to be a duel to the death, entered the room from one of the side doors. Duncan's first reaction was to reach for his sword. Certainly he had seen fighting in Highever before, but always in the sparring grounds or the tournament arena. Fighting in this room—in front of the teyrn himself—was highly out of the ordinary and a possible sign of trouble.

Duncan stayed his hand, though, when the pair was followed by a group of knights who seemed to be quite enthralled with the duel. One of the knights ignored the fighting and instead approached the teyrn. "Forgive me, milord," the knight said as he bowed. "I could not dissuade them from their current activity."

Bryce Cousland smiled at this and replied, "Do not worry yourself, Ser Gilmore. I doubt anyone could have dissuaded them."

Given the levity in Bryce's tone, Duncan let his concerns fade and turned his attention back to the fighters. They seemed to be an odd pair at first glance. The most obvious difference between them was that one was male and the other female. With his strength and heavy armor, the male looked like he would fit in perfectly among the knights watching the battle, although he would probably stand a head taller and have fewer years under his belt than most of them. Despite his youth, though, the male showed remarkable skill fighting with his sword and shield in a warrior's style.

The young woman, on the other hand, moved with the speed and cunning of a rogue. The daggers in her hands cut through the air with such swiftness, in fact, that Duncan wondered at how the young man was able to parry her blows while still launching attacks of his own. And yet, quite incredibly, she was able to do the same, defending herself from her opponent's powerful assaults and making offensive strikes against him in a series of graceful, fluid movements.

It did not take the shouts from the crowd of "You've got her, Lord Bryon!" or "Nice move, Lady Bena!" for Duncan to know the identities of these young fighters. Despite the differences in their fighting styles, both had their father's dark brown hair and their mother's deep green eyes, and, most striking in Duncan's opinion, both seemed to embody the strength and honor of the Cousland family. These were Bryce's youngest children—his twins.

Duncan watched as the fighting continued throughout the hall. He was impressed by how well the twins adapted to and took advantage of their surroundings. Stone columns and wooden tables did not create obstacles for the pair but instead provided opportunities for varying attacks and defenses.

From behind him, Duncan heard a man ask with disgust in his voice, "Aren't you going to stop this foolishness, Bryce?" Duncan turned to confirm his suspicions that it had been Arl Rendon Howe who had spoken.

"I trust my children, Rendon. They are both quite skilled and quite capable of recognizing when to stop before things fall out of hand," Bryce replied quietly. "Besides, it is good for the men to see some entertaining sport before they have to march off to war. It helps keep their minds from being preoccupied with the darkness that lies ahead."

Just as Howe was beginning to acquiesce to the teyrn's arguments, chaos erupted. Somehow, some action of either the twins or one of their rowdy observers sent a bowl of fruit into the air. Duncan turned to see a melon flying toward his face. Yet, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. He looked around and spotted the melon on the ground a few feet from him. A dagger had diverted it from its collision course and was still sticking out from the fruit. Duncan retrieved the blade and then looked at Bena. Both daggers were gone from her hands and neither was sheathed.

Duncan then surveyed the rest of the room and noticed a similarly impaled fruit nearby the teyrn. The arl, however, did not appear to have been so fortunate, as he rubbed a growing welt on his forehead. A large fruit was left lying at his feet. "You two," Howe began angrily, "are in desperate need of a lesson in discipline."

"I apologize, Arl," Bryon said, stepping forward and revealing a commanding tone to his voice. "It was not our intent to cause anyone harm."

"I am certain of that," Bryce interjected. "No doubt the men just wanted to finally know which of the two of you could beat the other in a fight. Unfortunately for them, I believe it would be best to leave that question unanswered and merely call the fight a draw."

Before the teyrn could say anything more, the main door opened and several of Howe's men entered the hall. They stepped towards the center of the room, taking in the sights of disarray, until one of the men finally spoke up, "Milord, a messenger has arrived at the camp of your personal guard. He has further information on our troops if you care to speak with him."

"I do, indeed, care to speak to him," Howe replied, this time trying to conceal his anger as he spoke. He turned toward Bryce, bowing his head and excusing himself from the teyrn's presence. Before leaving the hall, however, Howe also stopped in front of Lady Bena. He extended his hand, indicating that he wanted to receive hers in return. She obliged but did not remove her leather glove before doing so. Despite this, the arl still bowed and kissed her gloved hand. After looking up and saying, "Milady," Howe made his way to the door and exited the room.

Once Howe was gone and most of the Highever knights had cleared the room, Bena went up to her father and apologized if she had offended him.

"Offend me, no, my dear child. You did not offend me, but I noticed you did not apologize to the arl," Bryce said.

Bena's voice then changed, becoming a bit defensive. "That was to be my last duel with Bryon for Maker knows how long, father. I feel no shame in having participated in it."

Bryon then added, "And if you are referring to the matter of the fruit, father, the fault lies with neither Bena nor myself. Neither of us were anywhere near that dish, and besides, Bena did her best to prevent it from becoming too great of a mess."

Bena was about to start up again, and Bryce struggled to stifle the smile that wanted to appear on his face as he watched his children defend each other. Not seeing this hint of his oncoming smile, Bena continued, saying, "And if you are referring to the matter of the fruit hitting Howe, well I could not let the fruit hit you, father dear. Nor did I think it wise to allow the fruit to hit the formidable looking stranger in our hall, to whom you have yet to introduce us."

"I concede, my children. You win," Bryce said, raising his hand and no longer concealing his grin. "I know the coming days will be difficult for all of us, and that the two of you need to find what relief you can." Then, as he pulled the dagger from the impaled fruit nearest to him and handed the weapon back to his daughter, he added, "However, in the future, I would prefer that you keep such relief confined to the sparring grounds and not bring it into the main hall."

"Yes, father," the twins replied in unison.

"As for our guest," Bryce began, "this is Duncan of the Grey Wardens." At this introduction, Duncan moved closer to the Couslands. "Duncan," Bryce said, "this is my second son, Bryon, and my daughter, Bena." The twins bowed at the Warden, and then Bryon stepped forward, extending his arm.

Duncan clasped the young man's arm and shook it in the traditional greeting of the Ferelden military. "It is an honor to meet you, Warden," Bryon said.

"The honor is mine, milord," Duncan responded. "It is a rare opportunity, indeed, for me to bear witness to such a masterful display of swordsmanship as what you have demonstrated today."

"Thank you, Duncan," Bryon said, with apparent appreciation in his voice. To receive praise from a Grey Warden—a member of that legendary group of warriors—was an incredible compliment in the young man's opinion.

Duncan then turned his attention to Bena. She extended her arm as her brother had, indicating that she would prefer a soldier's greeting to a noblewoman's, and Duncan respected her silent request. "And you, milady," Duncan began, as he shook her arm and then returned her second dagger to her, "I have never seen blades move so quickly. I'm impressed you were able to throw the two daggers in time."

She smiled at this but before she could make any response a voice behind Duncan said, "Three."

"What was that, Ser Gilmore?" Bryce asked.

"She managed to throw three daggers before there was any impact," said the knight, removing a knife from a peach and then tossing the blade to Bena.

"Technically, it was two daggers and a knife, Ser Gilmore," Bena replied, stowing the small knife away up her glove.

"Impressive all the same, milady," Duncan said. "From what I have seen today, I believe that you and your brother would both make excellent Wardens. In fac—"

"No!" Bryce interrupted, his face covered in a stern expression. "Recruit who you will of my men, but my children are off limits. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, milord," Duncan said with a seriousness in his voice to match the teyrn's tone.

"But father," Bena began, "if I became a Grey Warden, I could help you and Bryon and Fergus against the darkspawn. I would actually be able to contribute something instead of just sitting back while you three are forced to do all of the work. I could—"

"I said no, Bena. You will be contributing. Staying here, managing Highever—that is what I need you to do while we gone."

"But mother could handle that on her own. I could do so much more as a Grey Warden!"

"But right now, your duty is to the people of Highever, Bena. And in a few months time, you will have new responsibilities to see to. You must think of your current obligations before you run off and dream of promising your life to the Wardens." The teyrn took a deep breath before beginning again, "Now, if you will all excuse me, I have an army to deal with. Ser Gilmore, see to the Warden's needs."

"Yes, milord," the knight replied.

Bena did not attempt to meet her father's gaze as he left the room and kept her face downcast after he was gone.

"I apologize, milady," Duncan said. "I did not mean to cause any animosity between you and your father."

"Do not trouble yourself, Warden, you are not the cause," Bena replied, looking up at Duncan. She smiled, but Duncan recognized it as not a true smile, but rather a mask worn by those who have learned to hide their emotions from the world. "If you will excuse us," she said, wrapping her arm around her brother's, "we also have several matters to attend to before the army departs."

"Duncan," Bryon said, "it was truly an honor. I hope that are paths may one day cross again."

"As do I, milord," Duncan said, bowing his head to Bryon. He then bowed his head to Bena, saying "Milady," and she responded in kind before leaving the room with her brother.

"Forgive me, Ser Gilmore, I do not mean to pry," Duncan said, turning to the knight, "but what did the teyrn mean by 'new responsibilities' for Bena. I was under the impression that she would remain here during the battle and maintain her current duties."

"She will do so," Gilmore said, unintentionally releasing a sigh, "until her twentieth birthday several months from now. Then she is to marry her betrothed."

"How odd. Although I admit to being otherwise preoccupied, I do not remember hearing anything about an engagement recently."

"It was not recently that she became engaged, Warden. She was betrothed practically at birth."

"To whom?"

"Thomas Howe, Arl Howe's son."

From this response, Duncan inferred a great deal about the girl. Her eagerness to join the Wardens, her lack of attention toward Howe—all of these signs pointed to the possibility that she was unsatisfied with the path currently before her.

_If only I could convince her father,_ Duncan thought before turning his focus back to the knight standing before him.

* * *

"Bena!" a man's voice yelled from behind her. She was on her own for the moment after her brother had helped her to escape their mother's lectures on what she must do to be a dutiful wife. She did not know how the woman always managed to get on that subject, despite everything else that was going on around her. Bena now hoped that the oncoming man had no such speeches to give her.

She turned to see Ser Gilmore quickly approaching. "Bena," he began, slightly out of breath and with a wide smile on his face. "I ha—I mean, milady," he said, stammering after realizing how informal he had been in using her first name.

"Ser Gilmore, we have known each other for over a decade. Please do not stand on formality on my account," she said reassuringly.

"Thank you, mila—Bena—sorry," he said, smiling as he tripped over her name.

_Maker, he's handsome when he smiles, _she thought, smiling back at him. But sadly, the other voice that lingered in her mind spoke up, _Yes, he may be handsome and kind and strong, but none of it matters. You're practically another man's wife, so dwelling on what can't be will only get you hurt._

Thankfully, before she carry on with this train of thought, Gilmore continued, telling her how Duncan was considering recruiting him into the Grey Wardens.

She wanted to throw her arms around her friend and congratulate him, but the nagging voice in her head held her back as it always had. So instead, she merely smiled and gripped his upper left arm, telling him what wonderful news it was.

"Thank you, mi—Bena," he said, the grin not leaving his face as he looked at her. "At least I'm getting better. Soon I won't start your name with any 'm' sound at all."

They both laughed at his last comment, but then his eyes changed, and his smile became softer, almost as if sadness had crept into it. His right hand went over the hand she had on his arm, keeping it in place. Then, quietly he said, "It would be better news if you could come with me. If we could…be together."

She didn't respond. She didn't know _how_ to respond. Yes, she had always felt something for the knight. He had always treated her with kindness and respect, despite the fact that she was a woman who generally tried to lead the life of a man. But she didn't know if her feelings for Gilmore could be considered love, and what her mind had always told her for certain was that it didn't matter if it was love. She knew her duty. She had to bring honor to the Cousland name the only way she could, even if that meant never allowing herself to know what true love felt like.

Gilmore noticed her hesitation. Letting go of her hand, he spoke, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was inappropriate, milady." Bena noticed him returning to his former self—rigid, stoic, and always proper.

It would have been easier to keep quiet and let him stay that way. _It's the only way to keep from getting hurt,_ the voice in her mind said. But the voice in her heart told her otherwise. If he went off with Duncan to become a Grey Warden, there might not be many more opportunities for them to talk.

"No, Ser Gil—Roderick," she began, breathing deeply and looking into his deep blue eyes. "It was not inappropriate. It's just that…I have responsibilities here. You heard my discussion with my father earlier. I cannot be a Warden, and it does me no good to dream of a world where I could be someone else and lead some other sort of life."

"And if you did not have those responsibilities?"

_Then I could dream all I wanted,_ Bena thought. _I could become a Warden and fight alongside my brothers in the coming battle. I could open my heart and find love—perhaps even with you, Ser Knight._

"I do not know," she said, turning her eyes downward. She knew her time with him was running short, and her heart was winning the battle against her mind. Even if she could not admit to him love, she decided that at least she could tell him the truth. "If I were able, I would like to become a Warden, and I would be honored to have you at my side."

He took up her hands into his own, and her eyes went back up at his. The look on his face was suddenly too much. She couldn't do this do him. Her mind once again reminded her that he was a good man and didn't deserve to be led on by someone who did not know love and someone who, no matter what, could not be his. He was about to speak, but she stopped him, saying, "But that is all just a dream and nothing more."

With a hint of desperation in voice, he responded, "But we could make it work somehow. I could take care of—"

"Ben!" another voice interrupted, and the knight and lady quickly pulled apart. They soon saw her brother round a nearby corner. "Ben, there you are. I need your help." Bryon noticed Gilmore, looking somewhat flushed, and nodded at the knight. "Ser Gilmore, I trust all is well."

"Yes, milord," was all that Gilmore managed to get out, so Bena spoke for him.

"Ser Gilmore was just telling me that he is a potential recruit for the Grey Wardens."

"That's wonderful news, Ser Gilmore. Congratulations!" Bryon replied. "You deserve this. You have proven to be one of my father's bravest knights. And, given that you were able to teach Ben to fight, you also proved yourself a miracle worker. I have no doubt that you will make a fine Grey Warden, and that you will do Highever proud."

"I hope to, milord. Thank you," Gilmore said, and then added, "You said you needed milady's assistance with something. Can I be of help?"

"Thank you, Ser, but no. Nan just needs to see us in the larder for a moment," Bryon responded. He turned to his sister, and the pair took their leave of the knight.

As they began to walk away, Bena's heart once again overruled her determined mind. She turned back to see the knight walking downtrodden in the opposite direction. "Ser Gilmore," she called out, and he quickly turned around to face her. "We can continue our conversation later," was all that she could say.

"I would like that, milady," he replied, before turning back to his original course. Some of the spring had returned to his step.

* * *

"So," Bryon began, "did he believe that now was the most opportune time to confess his undying love for you?"

Bena responded with a swift smack to the back of her brother's head, even though, as adults, his head was nearly a foot higher than hers. She then crossed her arms and glared at him with a look of shock and anger.

"What?" he asked before continuing, "I've lived in this castle my entire life too, Ben. You're my sister, and I've seen the way he looks at you. And if he were a less honorable man, I would have slit his throat for the way he looks at you, but…"

"But?"

Bryon looked into his sister's eyes and saw a sadness hidden there that ate away at him. He had grown up knowing his future. He knew that one day Fergus would be teyrn and that, as the second son, he would be the commander of Highever's army, and he was perfectly content with this. He wasn't interested in being the teyrn; he wanted to be a soldier. He had known this from the first day a sword had been placed into his hand.

He was a Cousland. Bound by honor and duty, he would have accepted whatever fate was laid upon him, and, fortunately for him, it seemed like it would be a well suited one. But the same could not be said for his sister. A Cousland daughter had not been born in several generations. At her birth, the betrothal made perfect sense to the teyrn. He had a daughter and his best friend had a son several years her senior. There appeared to be no reason for hesitation, and despite the value of a Cousland's word, a contract had been drawn up to finalize the deal.

And she was a Cousland. Bound by honor and duty, she would accept whatever fate was laid upon her, no matter what her heart might truly desire.

"But if you…" he began, trying to think of what could be said to solve this problem, "if you love him the way he loves you, you should speak to father about it. And now—before you give your life away to a man you can't stand."

"I've talked to father about this subject before, Bryon. He knows my…my opinion of Thomas. And he could very well be right. Perhaps I've only seen Thomas at moments when he's acting out on youthful impulses. Perhaps with time, he will be a better man."

She turned away from her brother before continuing, "Besides, I don't even know what I feel for Ser Gilmore. Yes, he cares for me, and I care for him, but I don't know if it's love. I don't know if it's enough to question what has been expected of me for my entire life. Father has asked nothing else of me, and because I cannot contribute to his campaigns, I can at least do what he believes is best in this regard."

"But, Ben—"

"No, Bryon," she said, turning back to face him. "I have only a few hours left with you before you leave for Ostagar and I do not want to waste them with pointless daydreams. I have had several moments of weakness today, all of which I blame on you," she said, attempting to lighten her tone as she poked a finger at his breastplate. "First with the whole wanting to be a Warden business and then with Gilmore just now—it's all because I'm not sure what I will do with myself when I no longer have my brother around here to fight with."

No response seemed adequate to Bryon. He hated the idea of leaving her behind to a life she did not want while he was off living his dream. He hated how she resigned herself to that life out of some sort of obligation to the Cousland family. And he hated his father for not tearing up that bloody contract, despite his daughter's pleas for him to reconsider, just because Bryce Cousland would not treat his friend Howe with such disrespect.

Silence fell between them for a moment. Then Bena carried on the conversation for both of them, smiling, if only for her departing brother's sake, "No need to worry, brother dear. Yes, I'll admit I envied that you would be able to go off to battle while I was left here. It had always been, 'Where you go, I go,' with us growing up, but I know we aren't children anymore."

Still smiling, she sighed and continued, "Everything is once again becoming perfectly clear to me. I will set everything aright again this evening so that by tomorrow my life will be exactly as it should be."

Changing the subject, she remarked, "Now, you said that Nan needed to see us?"

* * *

Bena and Bryon could hear the barking as they neared the kitchen. The dogs were obviously upset about something, and it didn't sound as if it was Nan's cooking.

The old woman approached the twins, waving a spoon at them as they entered. "Something has to be done about those mangy mutts of yours or else I'll quit," Nan yelled.

"Oh Nan, please don't say that," Bena pleaded.

"No doubt they just like spending time with you," Bryon added, as he stopped to kiss the woman on the cheek while trying to slyly grab a cookie off of the counter. But his heavy armor did little to hide his movements. Nan easily spotted the maneuver and slapped the hand reaching for the cookie.

"Those are for later!" she snapped. "Now get those things out of my larder!"

"Oh, alright," Bryon said, with apparent disappointment in his voice. He made his way into the larder where Bena stood waiting for his appearance. She stared at him with a guilty smile on her face. "What?" he asked.

She merely extended her arm and held out her hand to reveal a cookie hidden in her palm. "Take it. It's for you," she said.

"How am I going to survive without you, Ben?" he asked, before devouring the cookie.

"Maker only knows," she replied, kneeling down beside and petting the dogs who appeared to just be barking at the far wall. "Lux, Astor, what's wrong boys?"

Bryon had moved to the far wall to investigate. "I hear something," he said. "Hush, boys, so I can listen." With that command, the dogs went silent. "It sounds like…"

"Rats!" Bena said as she saw a pair of blood red eyes staring at her from underneath a cupboard. She pulled out her blades, and her brother drew his sword. With Lux and Astor at their sides, the small group quickly disposed of the vermin. Now that the creatures were dead, the dogs were calm and stopped their barking. "Well, that was disgusting," Bena commented.

"And strange," Bryon added, noting how unusual these rats had looked and behaved.

Noticing the noise had died down, Nan entered the larder and was taken aback by the horrid sights and smells of the room. "What did you troublemakers do to my larder?"

"We're sorry, Nan," Bena replied. "There appears to have been a rat infestation."

"But don't worry, we'll clean it up," Bryon added.

"Oh no, you won't," Nan said. "Apparently, the teyrn's been looking for you and Fergus. He said something about you boys leaving now with our men while he waits for Howe's troops. So, you best get a move on, and I'll see to this mess." Nan paused for a moment before adding, "And you be careful out there, young man. Don't do anything foolish."

He went up to Nan and hugged her. "Don't worry, Nan. I'll be back soon, and I'll bring you a present. Anything you want."

At that precise moment, Astor once again began to bark. Nan pulled away from Bryon, looked at him, and said, "Just teach that dog of yours some manners while you're gone. I'd be more impressed with that than if you defeated the whole darkspawn army singlehandedly!"

* * *

The next few hours flew by quickly. They had been filled with tearful good-byes and a brother's promise that he would see his twin sister again soon. She had made him promise that, as he had yet to ever break his word to her.

That afternoon, Bena had not had it in her to face Gilmore, knowing how hard it would be to tell him to forget their previous conversation. After her mind had finally won out against her heart, she knew that this would be the best way for her to maintain her resolve. She would have to explain to him that, with all of the distractions of the day—her brothers' imminent departure, his own recruitment into the Grey Wardens—she had spoken without thought. She decided to reveal this to him just before he left with Duncan, giving the knight no time to try to change her mind.

Now the sun was beginning to set over Highever. Bena watched from the castle's highest tower as the army became a smaller and smaller speck on the southern landscape. Lux whined beside her.

"Don't worry, boy," she said kneeling so she could be face-to-face with her Mabari. "We'll see them again soon."

"He no doubt misses Astor as much as you miss Bryon," a woman's voice said from behind her. The slight Antivan accent was unmistakable.

"And no doubt as much as you miss Fergus," Bena replied to her sister-in-law, Oriana. The two had had their share of disagreements in the past, primarily about Bena's unfeminine behavior, but tonight there was no hostility in the Antivan's voice. She sounded as sad as Bena felt.

"'Tis true. I do miss him, as does Oren. It's so hard on him. He knows that his father had to go away for something important, but at the same time he wants his father here to tell him a story at night." She sighed, "And apparently, I am not good at telling stories."

Bena smiled at Oriana and said, "Perhaps your stories just don't have enough griffons in them."

"Perhaps that is so, but what do I know of griffons or dragons or fighting? I doubt I could come up with a decent story about such things."

"I could tell him a story, if you'd like."

Oriana's face brightened. "Would you? I know that you and I do not always…well, get along, but you are always so wonderful with Oren. I think it would help him sleep tonight if you wouldn't mind talking to him."

"Of course I wouldn't mind, Oriana," Bena said, placing her hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "Oren is my nephew, and you're my family too. We'll help each other get through this, and then, before we know it, Fergus and Bryon—they'll both be back."

"Thank you, Bena," Oriana replied with a smile. "You are perhaps not as hard as I once thought you were." She turned to leave, but looked back at Bena, her expression a bit more serious. "You know, if you need me, I am here for you as well. I know what awaits you in the coming months, and if you want to know about what to expect when it comes to marriage, I would be happy to answer your questions."

Bena thanked Oriana for the offer. She had had no romantic experiences beyond one kiss that she tried everyday to forget. The more she thought about this and her impending marriage, the more she worried about her ignorance. "I may just have to take you up on that," she said to the Antivan, as they left the tower's roof.

* * *

Having gotten a late start because of Howe's delays, the army of Highever marched through the night. The men would stop to set up camp tomorrow, but they knew that they would not tarry in any particular spot for too long. The threat was in Ostagar and so was the king. That was where they were needed.

As they travelled that night, Bryon was overcome by a feeling of dread. He could not explain it. It was not the pre-battle nerves he had been dealing with for the past few days or the effects of the winter's final chills moving through the air.

No, this was something else, and Bryon could not help but think of Bena. He hoped that, no matter what might happen to him in the coming days, at least she would be safe.

Unfortunately for the twins, all of Bryon's hoping would not be enough to protect them from the darkness that lay ahead.


	2. Chapter 1 Attack on the Castle

_**Author's Note: **_If you know the Cousland origin story, you know that this part of it is rather dark. Just to forewarn you, my depiction of it below is also very dark and includes language, violence, and sexual assault. After this chapter, I will be introducing characters from other origin stories, but for this chapter, I've stuck with the Cousland plot.

* * *

Something wasn't right—Bena knew that much. She was walking the halls of the castle and could see blood-red light pouring in through the windows. She could hear Lux barking off in the distance, but everywhere she searched, she couldn't find him. In fact, she couldn't find anyone.

Her pace quickened. Hallway after hallway she searched, and still no one appeared. She stopped in the great hall. A faint smell of smoke entered her nostrils.

_This has to be a dream,_ she told herself. _You just need to wake up._

As she tried to will her mind and body to wake, she felt the floor shift beneath her. She looked down to see two hands rise up out of the ground and then tightly grip her lower legs. The hands were pulling her downward and Lux's barking suddenly stopped.

Then, with one rough yank, Bena was pulled back into the real world. But from what she saw when she opened her eyes, it seemed more like a nightmare.

There were three men in her room. One of them was at the foot of her bed. He had just dropped her calves after having pulled her closer to himself. He was leaning down toward her when he saw her eyes flutter open. "Hey boys," he said, glancing back at his cohorts. "The bitch is awake. Now the real fun can begin." The man flashed a dirty grin at the others. But as he turned back to his intended prey, a fist connected with his jaw, knocking the grin off his face and a tooth from his mouth.

She continued her assaults, and the two observers neared the bed to assist the man still on top of Bena. She swung and kicked at them, but to no avail. All of them were in heavy armor, meaning her bare-flesh attacks were of little use against them. Eventually, one of them managed to grab both of her wrists and squeeze them tightly, bruising Bena with his steel gauntlets.

"I told you to be careful with this one," the man said as he roughly held her wrists above her head. "I just knew she was going to give us more trouble than that foreigner's giving the boys across the hall."

_Oriana! _Bena thought. She redoubled her efforts to break free from these men when she thought of her sister-in-law and nephew in danger.

But in an instant, her mind went blank as an armored hand flew against the side of her face. "That was for my tooth," the first man spat. "And this," he said huskily, pulling up the hem of her nightgown, "this is going to be for me."

He crawled onto the bed, trapping her legs beneath his weight. He ripped away her smallclothes with one hand and began unbuckling the armor at his waist with the other. Bena was panicking. She was still somewhat dizzy from the hit and she couldn't shake the feeling of complete helplessness running through her. She had never known fear like this before in her life. She had no more ideas and none of her attempts to free herself were working.

Then suddenly, the barking returned to her ears. Lux was somewhere nearby.

As loudly as she could, she shouted the Mabari's name into the air. The man on top of her finished removing his lower armor and violently grabbed her throat, stifling her shouts. He lowered himself, pressing his body against hers. At such a close distance, she could see sweat running along his grisly face and smell the foul odor of his breath. Although futile, she still struggled to get away from him, and the man found himself becoming more aroused watching her squirm. He taunted her by letting his hardness rub against her thighs. He then turned her head and licked her ear before saying, "The real fun hasn't even started yet, my little noble bitch. What are you yelling about?"

Before he could even position himself to thrust inside of her, the man received his answer. Lux bounded into the room, leaping at the man on top of his mistress and knocking him to the ground. The other two men turned their attentions away from Bena and moved to help their friend fend off the raging animal.

But Lux was too quick for them. Their friend's throat had already been ripped out before they even had a chance to draw their swords. The dog looked up at the remaining men and growled, the blood of the other man dripping from his mouth.

Despite the fact that she was still shaking after her rude awakening, Bena did not waste this opportunity. As the two men began circling Lux, she pulled her nightgown back down, went to the chest near her bed, and retrieved her daggers. One of the men blurted out "What the—?" as he watched the other fall to the ground. A dagger was protruding from the back of the man's skull. The last sight the third man beheld was of the girl hurling her second blade at his own head. Her aim was true, and his world faded to black.

Without a moment's hesitation—without even stopping to put on her armor—Bena removed her daggers from the men's corpses and ran from the room. Her mind was focused on a single objective: get to Oren and Oriana.

* * *

Her heart sank as she entered the room. She had lost her hope that they were somehow still alive when she had seen two men exiting Oriana's chamber, but the sight of their lifeless bodies was still unfathomable. Bena and Lux had quickly dispatched the men in the hallway, but now that she saw what those fiends had done to her sister-in-law and nephew, she wished she had drawn out their deaths and made them suffer.

They had left Oriana sprawled out upon the bed in an undignified manner. Her throat had been slit, and her clothes had been discarded. She had bruises on her wrists not unlike those that Bena now bore.

Bena ignored the chaos that she sensed was making its way throughout her home and took a moment to wrap Oriana in a sheet, gently tucking in her sister-in-law's legs and arms as she covered her. She then looked to her nephew, who was lying facedown on the floor. As she picked him up, she saw a large bloodstain that had spread across the greater part of his small shirt. She took the boy up in her arms and then laid him on the bed beside his mother.

She did not know how long she had stood there afterwards, looking down at them, but a noise from just outside the room brought her back into reality. Multiple pairs of heavy boots were moving towards the family's living quarters.

Once again, Bena ventured into the hallway, this time to see five opponents facing her. She did her best to push the horrors of the night to the back of her mind and instead focus on her approaching attackers. She slipped into her fighting stance and fell back on years of combat training to help her through this. She analyzed her opponents' styles and movements so that she could best dodge and deflect their assaults. She observed their weaknesses and exploited them at every opportunity. And finally, she noted the crest that they wore proudly on their armor and shields—the crest of Arl Rendon Howe.

Before they knew what was happening, three of her attackers had fallen. Of the surviving two, one rushed at her, yelling as he charged at her his sword. He was easily—and permanently—halted by an attack from Lux. The last man had stepped backwards during his friend's futile attempt. He had pulled out his bow and made ready an arrow. With no armor, the arrowhead would have readily dug into Bena's flesh, but the arrow never flew.

Bena looked up and saw that another arrow had made its way into the man's back. Searching for the archer who had helped her, Bena's eyes fell upon her mother in full armor with a bow in her hand.

"Are you alright?" Eleanor Cousland asked frantically. Bena just gave a swift nod, unable to put her current emotional state into words and worried that if she tried, she would fall apart then and there.

"We need to see if Oren and Oriana—" Eleanor began as she moved toward her daughter-in-law's room. Bena stopped her mother and shook her head. "No…" the older woman whispered, as tears began to well in her eyes.

Bena firmly grabbed her mother's arms and said, "We need to find father. Have you seen him?"

"If he couldn't make it to us up here, he would have gone to the back servant's passage in the larder. He would wait for us there," Eleanor said trying to steady herself.

"Then we'll head there," Bena said. "Now wait here with Lux and keep a look out while I go get my armor." She did not want her mother to enter her room and see the dead men lying on her floor. That would lead to questions—questions Bena didn't think she could deal with just yet. All she wanted now was to find her father and escape from this madness.

* * *

Bena, Eleanor, and Lux swiftly fought their way through the grounds, stopping only to retrieve the Cousland family blade and the Shield of Highever from the armory. Bena strapped these items onto her back. Although they put her somewhat off-balance, the sword and shield were her brothers' birthrights. She was determined to keep them safe in Cousland hands.

The direct path to the larder was blocked, so the trio headed for the great hall to find a way around. Inside, they found Ser Gilmore and a group of knights fighting off more of Howe's men. Bena joined the fray, and their enemies were soon cut down. As she pulled her blade out of the neck of her last victim, Gilmore caught sight of her. Without hesitation, he threw his arms around her.

"Thank the Maker you're alive!" he said, pulling back to look at her, yet never letting go of her shoulders. He first saw the injury on the side of her face. Her attacker's hit had left both a bruise and a small cut near the base of her jaw. His eyes then moved to five bruises on her neck. From their placement, Gilmore could easily tell that a hand had been at her throat.

Bena hated how exposed she was in her leather armor as she fell under Gilmore's scrutinizing gaze. It did not conceal the bruises on her legs caused by her attacker's weight and heavy armor pressing down on top of her. She felt ashamed enough about her weakness and inability to save herself; the physical reminders covering her body made it that much worse.

Although still holding on to her, Gilmore could not look into her eyes. "I am sorry I could not protect you, milady," he said quietly. "I am sorry that I have failed you."

"Look at me, Roderick," she said, and the knight obeyed her command. "You have not failed me. You have _never_ failed me. Despite everything, we have both survived this night, and now we need to focus on getting out of here."

"Your father was badly wounded when last I saw him, but he was headed in the direction of the larder. You should go that way now, milady." He dropped his hands from her arms and began to move back towards the main door.

"You're coming with us, Roderick," Bena said, questioning his last choice of words.

"I cannot, milady. If I leave now, the main gate will fall, Howe's men will easily overwhelm the castle, and there will be no chance for you to escape."

"But—"

"Please, Bena," he said, turning back towards her and putting a hand upon her uninjured cheek. "I would prefer to die knowing that there is some hope that you are still alive than to flee with you now and only increase the risk that something could happen to you."

"Roderick, we can still—"

"No, if you will not leave now for my own selfish reasons, then do so for the sake of your brothers. A group of Howe's men went with them to Ostagar, Bena, and if Howe means to kill the entire Cousland family…"

"Then Bryon and Fergus are in danger," she said, as new anxiety and fear came to her with this realization. She then put her hand on top of the knight's before asking, "Is there nothing I can say that would make you reconsider your decision to stay?"

"No, milady, but there is one request I would make of you…"

"Anything."

"No matter what happens, do not give yourself to Thomas Howe—promise me that. Promise me you will find someone who is worthy of you, someone who truly loves and deserves you."

He had a pleading look in his eyes as he spoke. Out of all that he could have asked of her in that moment, this was all he wanted—to know that she would be safe and that she would be loved. All of the day's events suddenly seemed to bear down upon her, and she was overcome by the urge to kiss this man who so obviously cared for her. She knew there wasn't time to enjoy such a thing, but still she moved her face closer to the knight's and swiftly, yet firmly, pressed her lips to his.

As she pulled away, she said the words "I promise," and Gilmore smiled softly in response.

"Thank you, Bena," he said before a loud thud against the main door caught his attention. "They're using a battering ram. You must go now, milady!"

"Come, Bena, we must find your father," her mother said, tugging at her arm from behind. "Maker watch over you, Ser Gilmore."

"Maker watch over us all," Gilmore replied before rejoining his men at the main door. Bena considered going after the knight and staying to fight alongside him. She hated the idea of him sacrificing himself for her, but then images of her brothers being caught unaware and attacked by Howe's men flashed through her mind. She had to leave; she had to warn them. She knew she could not stay with the knight, but from that moment on, she was determined that she would at least keep her promise to him.

* * *

"We must leave now," Duncan said firmly, and Bena felt as if her head were spinning.

Everything was happening so quickly. Here was her father, lying on the ground before her, apologizing for the unhappiness he had caused her and for failing to recognize the darkness that she had always seen in Howe and his son. And then suddenly, to add to the shocks of the evening, he was promising her over to the Grey Wardens.

She could not complain about it. Being a Warden was what she truly wanted—she only wished it had come to her under better circumstances.

"You must go with Duncan, darling. You have a better chance of escaping without me," Eleanor said to her daughter as she held her husband's hand.

"Eleanor, you must flee with them as well," Bryce said, coughing up blood as he spoke.

"I cannot leave you, my love," Eleanor replied. "We have had a good life. It's up to our children now."

"I can't just leave the two of you to die like this," Bena spoke up.

"If you don't, then we shall all die. My place is here, with your father."

"Eleanor—" Bryce began.

"Hush, my husband. I shall stay and kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time—and I shall not leave you!" Eleanor said, as she let a single tear drop down her cheek. She then turned a proud face to her daughter and said, "Go now, my darling. You must look after your brothers. You must see to it that vengeance is done."

"Know that we love all three of you. You do us proud," her father added.

A loud, rumbling noise cut through the room, shaking the Couslands from their moment of sentiment.

Duncan grabbed Bena's arm and led her toward the servants' exit. He was saying something about the gate having fallen, but Bena could not hear him. Her focus was on the sight of her parents, holding one another as their world collapsed around them. They grew smaller and smaller as she, Duncan, and Lux retreated further into the dark passageway until finally the pair faded beyond view. That was the last Bena saw of her old life. Her new life now waited in the shadows ahead.


	3. Chapter 2 Ostagar Part 1

_**Author's Note:**_ This chapter introduces a few new characters and goes into events that take place before Duncan and Bena's arrival at Ostagar. Given that I am not so ambitious as to cover all possible origin stories, you may begin to see some overlap where I have combined elements from different backgrounds. Some characters and plot points are just too interesting to ignore, even though I might not be including the origin story that they are typically associated with. This mainly will happen in later chapters, but there is a hint of it in this chapter.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Of all the things that the outside world had to offer, there was no doubt that Amee liked the sky the most. She had seen it before, of course, but only through the tightly shut windows of the Tower or long ago past the tall, cramped buildings of the Alienage. She had read about the sky in several books as well, but now Amee saw that such glimpses and verses had failed to do it justice. Here at Ostagar, where time had worn away the ceilings and walls of the ruins, Amee could at last appreciate what those authors had meant when they described the vast openness of the sky and the promise of freedom it seemed to offer.

Others in the camp, however, seemed unable to recognize this wonder hanging right above them. They tended to focus on the more negative aspects of Ostagar—the lack of satisfying food, the constant threat of darkspawn attack, the unpleasant odor that only a large number of troops living in close quarters could generate. These things bothered most people, but all Amee had to do was climb a nearby tree and she could ignore it all.

Amee had mastered climbing long ago. She had never understood why they had to keep the most useful texts on the highest shelves of the mages' library, but now she was thankful for the skill it had given her. From up here, she could see everything, and the troubling memories of the events that had brought her to Ostagar seemed to fade to the back of her mind.

She looked down from the pale blue view above her, though, when she heard a rumbling noise growing closer to the camp. It was the sound of hundreds of feet and dozens of horses marching upon the cold, hard ground leading to Ostagar. Amee could see that it was a new division of soldiers fast approaching. As this army drew nearer, the main body of the force went toward the camping grounds. A smaller group of men on horseback separated from the others and headed toward the king, who had just emerged from his tent to greet the newcomers.

"My lords!" King Cailan shouted, as the men dismounted and bowed before their monarch.

Amee could not hear much of the conversation beyond that, but she was able to see the king's enthusiasm and respect for these men, especially the two in front. They were the leaders of the party, as far as Amee could tell, given not only their commanding presence but also in the king's attention to them. Although most would have considered these men handsome, Amee did not see the appeal. Every armored knight at Ostagar tended to remind her too often of templars, and she simply could not see herself finding anyone like that attractive.

As Amee recalled, the templars around every corner had somehow made the closed-in halls of the Tower feel even more confining. Always watching the mages' every move and always reminding them that they were a dangerous lot who deserved to be kept locked away in the Tower, the templars were rarely, if ever, friendly to the mages. And the mages responded to their keepers in kind. There was not always open hostility between the parties, but there was often indifference and more than occasionally the slightest hints of agitation and disgust. So the templars and the mages typically kept their distance from one another socially. Some tried to bridge the gap, but Amee had not seen that as her duty.

Once before her Harrowing, she had caught a templar eying her, but she had just ignored it. She would have been doomed if she had done anything else. To encourage that sort of behavior would have landed them both in trouble as soon as they were found out, and to turn the templar in would probably have ended with her being accused of being a desire demon. No matter what sort of relationship she might have been able to develop with a templar, she knew that nothing would change that templar's need to see her remain in her gilded cage. Templars were so predictable in that way.

_Most_ were, at least. Since leaving the Tower, she had found an exception to this rule. Of course, Alistair didn't entirely fit the rule to begin with, seeing as how he was never officially a templar—just a templar-in-training. Despite his exposure to the templar lifestyle though, the odd young man had somehow managed to stay as kind and as funny as anyone Amee had ever met. But still, in her opinion, this didn't necessarily make him attractive so much as goofy and amusing.

After meeting more new people in the last few days than ever before in her life, Amee had come to believe that Alistair and the rest of the Grey Wardens were all exceptions to the rules. Given the general distrust of mages among the people of Ferelden, she had assumed that everyone at Ostagar would share the common belief that mages were evil. Yet, Duncan, Alistair, and the others who dedicated their lives to defeating the darkspawn seemed willing to trust her, even if others at Ostagar outside of the Grey Wardens did not.

And, speak of the archdemon, the would-be templar had just walked into her line of sight as she reminisced. _What was awkward Alistair doing approaching the king and these newcomers?_ Amee wondered.

* * *

Alistair was thrilled to see the winged blue banners flying above the oncoming procession. Those banners meant that the people from Highever had finally arrived, that Duncan would finally be back, and that his own recruit-caretaking days would _finally_ be over.

When a darkspawn threat had arisen in the south several weeks ago, a Joining had been called for to bring new Wardens into the fight, and Duncan had been placed in charge of it. While other Wardens had helped gather recruits and would be assisting with the ritual itself, Duncan and his ex-templar protégé were tasked with seeing that those recruits made it to the first steps of the ritual in one piece. An easy assignment from the sound of it, but Alistair had found out just how difficult it truly was when Duncan had left him on his own with the new recruits.

Alistair had always preferred avoiding anything that even remotely smelled like a leadership role. It was not that he was incapable as a leader; he just lacked the motivation to assume such responsibility. It felt like too much pressure to try to take on alone. On top of this, none of the recruits seemed very inclined to follow—or to simply get along with one another.

Even now, Alistair could hear the bickering starting up again right behind him. From the sound of it, he knew that their verbal assaults would soon escalate into physical violence. He also knew, however, that Duncan would have an easier time stopping this argument than he would by himself. Several Warden-recruit fights that had taken place while Duncan was gone had ended only when one side was too bloody and broken to continue, despite Alistair's best efforts to prevent these bouts.

Now that those banners were approaching Ostagar, though, all Alistair had to do was find Duncan, and that would solve everything. Alistair was certain that the recruits would listen to the senior Warden.

With threats and insults still flying behind him, Alistair headed off toward the group of riders that had entered the camp. Duncan had mentioned that he knew the teyrn of Highever, so Alistair assumed that Duncan would be riding with the lords' party. Yet his mentor wasn't in sight as Alistair drew nearer to the main group. _Duncan was supposed to be coming back from Highever, and he should be back by now, _Alistair thought. _Where could he be?_

Alistair decided to ask someone. He carefully—and purposefully—sidestepped the nobles and the king. In Alistair's mind, nobility and royalty fell into the things-to-be-avoided category right along with leadership. He made his way toward one of the knights in the nobles' entourage and inquired of him about Duncan.

Instead of responding to Alistair directly, the knight turned toward the head of the group and said, "Excuse me, my lords, this man wishes to know about the Grey Warden Duncan."

Alistair cringed as the knight brought the lords and the monarch into the discussion. The two nobles turned to get a look at Alistair, but the king kept his attention focused on his friends. Almost giddily, the king exclaimed, "Duncan? Is Duncan travelling with you?"

"No, Your Highness," the younger noble replied as he once again faced the king. Alistair had little knowledge of the Cousland family, but he could tell just by looking at them that these two were brothers. One appeared to be a few years older than Alistair, but the other seemed to be at least five years younger than the ex-templar, given the youth still present in his face. In spite of his age, though, the younger Cousland looked formidable. He was as tall as Alistair and just as muscular, if not more so.

The young noble continued, "Duncan should be arriving with our father in the next few days. He stayed behind to test out his new recruit from Highever." He then turned back to the Warden, "You are Alistair, are you not?"

Alistair gave the noble a surprised nod in response, not expecting to be known by a teyrn's son.

"I am Lord Bryon Cousland, and this is my older brother Lord Fergus. And, no doubt, you recognize our king."

Alistair remained silent, bowing to each of the men in turn but only as much as was required by the rules of social etiquette. He wanted to go back to avoiding this sort of situation, and he knew that if he began one of his rambling conversations, he might just be digging himself deeper into the hole.

Bryon continued, "Duncan asked me to find you and pass along the information regarding his delay. Hopefully, he and Ser Gilmore, his recruit, will not be far behind us."

"Just one Highever knight?" the king asked. "I am surprised that Duncan did not try to recruit at least one of Bryce's children."

"He did, Your Highness," Bryon replied, smiling. "But father put a stop to it. As you can no doubt imagine, Your Majesty, Ben was highly disappointed by it."

The king laughed at this last comment and then said, "Oh yes, I can most definitely see that. I hope that Ben was unarmed when your father said no."

"Thankfully, all daggers remained sheathed, Your Highness." The Couslands and the king all laughed at this comment, and Alistair saw his opportunity. He was grateful to whoever that boy Ben was for giving the three men a topic that might allow him a clean getaway.

Just as he was beginning to back away, though, a shout broke through the air.

"ALISTAIR!"

* * *

Bryon could see a male dwarf running up to the Grey Warden shouting the man's name. The dwarf was huffing and puffing by the time he reached their party, and Alistair's face seemed filled with concern as he asked what was wrong.

Still winded, the dwarf replied, "It was that boy Daveth…He finally went too far…I told him not to…But he wouldn't listen." The dwarf's breath finally steadied. "I told him not to start talkin' about a female drawf's breasts when she's got a battle axe strapped to her back, but that boy must think he's as smooth as Antivan ale the way he kept goin' on about 'em."

"Idiot," Alistair muttered loudly enough so that Bryon could hear him. "Where is he now?"

The dwarf pointed westward, where Bryon spotted a human male being supported by a male knight and what appeared to be a Dalish female. The unconscious man in the middle, whom Bryon correctly assumed was this Daveth fellow, had a deep cut across his chest. They were moving toward Alistair, and Bryon wondered why the Grey Warden, who was supposedly in charge of this group, was not taking any action other than to shake his head in either disappointment or disbelief.

Never one to hesitate, Bryon spoke up as they laid Daveth on the ground nearby. "He needs healing magic," Bryon said before turning to his party, looking for a mage that Howe had sent with them. "Corbin," he said as he caught sight of the bald man in slate gray robes. "Can you help him?"

"Healing is not my specialty, milord," Corbin replied.

At this, Bryon heard Alistair say, "He's losing too much blood, and we're too far away from the healing grounds." The Grey Warden then yelled, "Amee!"

A small, female figure jumped down from a nearby tree. At the sight of her, Bryon experienced a feeling unlike anything he had ever felt before. Despite the excitement going on around him, it seemed as if time had frozen when he saw her. She was a vision draped in dark blue robes. Her long, blonde hair flowed freely behind pointed ears. She made her way to the others as quickly as her petite frame could carry her, rushing past anyone in her way. When she reached them, she knelt down beside Daveth across from Alistair.

"Maker's breath, Amee, were you just taking your time to enjoy the show from up there?" Alistair questioned harshly—a little too harshly in Bryon's opinion.

"I'm sorry, Alistair," she replied, as she placed her hands above Daveth's chest. "Apparently, the trees around here are easier to climb up than they are to climb down."

A pale blue glow emanated from her hands, and soon Daveth's raspy, uneven breathing became deep, rhythmic breaths. After a few more moments, Daveth's eyes slowly opened. After taking in his surroundings and spotting Amee above him, Daveth said, "If you wanted to be over top of me while I'm flat on my back, love, all you had to do was ask."

Bryon felt a sharp anger rise in chest at that comment, but it dissipated when Amee just rolled her eyes in response to Daveth and said, "I think he'll live, but he should be taken to a senior enchanter to make sure all of his injuries are healed."

The knight that had helped carry Daveth now brought the rogue to his feet and led him toward the healing grounds on the far side of Ostagar. The Dalish elf and the dwarf followed behind them. Alistair and Amee were about to take their leave as well when a Reverend Mother and two templars stormed toward them.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" the Reverend Mother demanded.

"Of course, Reverend Mother," the king replied in an amused tone. "I was just being entertained by several Grey Wardens. Is there something wrong?"

"Yes, there most definitely is something wrong when a mage is running about wildly and unchecked, nearly knocking over representatives of the Chantry," the Reverend Mother said before turning her gaze toward Amee. "There is the creature now. Templars, see that this mage is taught a lesson in propriety."

The look of anger and fear that entered the elf's light blue eyes as the templars moved toward her made Bryon reach for his sword, but there was no need for him to draw it. Alistair had already stepped in front of Amee.

"Reverend Mother," Alistair began with a new, authoritative tone to his voice that caused the templars to halt their progress. "You and your templars do not have jurisdiction over Grey Wardens or their recruits."

"Grey Warden or not, that girl is still a mage and must, therefore, learn her place."

"But she just saved a man's life," Bryon interjected, trying as best he could to conceal his annoyance at the Reverend Mother's callous attitude toward the mage. "Surely an act such as that deserves praise and respect, Your Reverence, rather than punishment."

He glanced back at the mage and noticed her staring at him with a surprised look on her face. _Had she not expected anyone else to stand up for her besides Alistair?_ Bryon wondered. When their eyes met, a feeling of heat surged through him, but the girl quickly turned her gaze away after she saw him looking at her as well.

The Reverend Mother was about to speak again, but the king raised his hand. "Forgive me, Your Reverence, but I must agree with Lord Cousland on this issue. The mage was actually being quite helpful, and she is a Grey Warden recruit. I respect the Wardens' autonomy, as should you, Your Reverence."

"Very well, Your Highness," the Reverend Mother replied in a far less superior tone than what she had started the conversation with. "But the girl should learn to be mindful of where she is going," she added as she bowed to the king and began to leave the group. Just as she completed her turn, though, the Reverend Mother collided with Corbin.

Bryon saw that Alistair was doing his best to stifle a laugh at the Reverend Mother's perfectly timed comment and clumsiness. He also noticed a slight smile appear on the lips of the elf, which warmed him yet again, but the smile was soon gone. She had caught sight of something that made the smile disappear and her brow furrow.

Bryon followed her gaze, but, in that direction, he could see only the Reverend Mother and her templars walking away and Corbin and the Highever knights standing in place. He couldn't determine what had given her concern. When he turned back toward her, the elf's eyes were downcast and she had put a rather stoic expression on her face.

"Excuse us, my lords, Your Highness," Alistair began, before bowing. "We must take our leave." The Warden then led Amee by the elbow away from the group, and soon they were gone from Bryon's sight.

Bryon then turned his focus back to the king, who had given Alistair little attention during the entire time that the Warden was there. Bryon thought this odd, given the king's professed interest in the Wardens. However, the young noble was soon distracted from this thought, as the king began, "Now, I have a task for one of you. I need someone I can trust to lead a scouting party into the Wilds. Come with me to my tent so we can discuss the details."

Bryon followed the king, but again felt his mind wandering—this time toward the elf. There was so much he didn't know about her—her full name, where she had come from. He wanted to know all this and more. Most importantly, he wanted to know what she had seen that had bothered her earlier and what he could do to fix it.


	4. Chapter 3 Ostagar Part 2

_**Author's Note: **_Because this part of the story is turning out to be longer than expected, I've split it up further. Last week was a busy week, but hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, and adding this to your favorites!

* * *

Amee knew there was only one way to be certain of what she had seen, so she waited until she could sneak off alone and then went in search of the other mage. She had kept everything to herself. She didn't want to start making false accusations against anyone, especially not accusations of this kind.

Her suspicions were aroused after the Reverend Mother had run into the other mage, causing the grim-looking man to adjust his robes. That's when she had seen it—a tiny glint of silver stowed away up the mage's sleeve. A few weeks ago, such a thing would have easily gone past her unnoticed, but now, that hidden piece of metal meant so much more.

She had seen her friend Jowan keep a knife similarly tucked within his sleeve the night she was recruited into the Wardens. Before that night—in what seemed like another life—everything had been so different. Amee had thought she was in love. It had started as a childhood friendship that soon became timid flirting. As the years passed, an awkward first kiss eventually had led to an even more awkward first coupling. Yet, they had stayed best friends throughout all of it. For years, she had dreamt that this relationship of indescribable closeness and of kisses stolen when the eyes of the Tower weren't watching would continue for the rest of their lives.

But as she and Jowan grew older, things began to change. She was quickly recognized for her skills, and even First Enchanter Irving took special note of her gifts. Jowan, on the other hand, became more and more reclusive. He drifted away from Amee and took interest in other things—things he would not share.

Then came the night when he had announced his love for another and his desire to flee from the Tower. It had been nearly a year since the last time that they had been 'more than friends,' but still, Amee was shocked. She had hoped that with time things would fall back into place between them. But no, on that night, all Jowan seemed to want from her was her help in escaping the Tower.

And then her world truly came spiraling down around her. Before she knew it, she was being used by Jowan as his ticket out of the Tower and by Irving as his means for uncovering rule-breaking mages and Chantry initiates. In the end, she had sided with Irving. Something had just felt off when Jowan had asked for her help, and she realized quickly that her instincts were correct. When Irving and the templars had Jowan cornered, he had pulled out the knife and stabbed it into his hand, unleashing blood magic against his would-be captors. A horrible mixture of blood and pain had spread throughout the room, and Amee had found it heartbreaking to see Jowan change from her friend and lover into a complete stranger bent on hurting anyone in his path.

The night ended with Jowan disappearing into the darkness as an apostate, his new lover Lily being taken off to the mages' prison, and Amee being forced to give up her home and join the Grey Wardens.

Who would have though that such a tiny piece of metal could cause so much trouble? Looking back on it, Amee realized that blood magic was deceptive in that way. It was easily hidden up people's sleeves, behind closed doors, and underneath the faces of former friends. But blood magic was powerful too. Attacking a blood mage head-on seemed like it would be a guaranteed lesson in pain. That was the reason she now planned to follow the other mage as stealthily as possible. To uncover whether he was truly a blood mage, she knew she would have to catch him with his guard down. If her theory was correct, the other mage was most likely doing his best to keep his secret from the noblemen she had seen him with. She seriously doubted that they would have welcomed an admitted maleficar into their midst.

As the sun was setting, she found the other mage by the gate leading to the Wilds. 'Corbin' was what the guard there had called him. After the conversation between the guard and the mage ended, Corbin turned and headed toward the Cousland camp.

_Well, Corbin, let's see what you're hiding,_ Amee thought as she moved to follow his steps.

Corbin walked with determination and eventually made it to one of the larger tents on the far side of camp. From its size, the tent looked as if it could fit a dozen men comfortably. Corbin quickly pulled the flap closed behind him once he was inside, and Amee noticed that the material was too dark and thick for shadows to be cast against the cloth walls. This prevented her from seeing any of the interior, so she kneeled down at the side of the tent, concealing herself behind a bush, and listened.

"—follow you?" was the first thing Amee caught.

"Of course not. I am too careful for that, and besides, I am a nobleman's mage. No one has any reason to suspect me."

"What news?" an unknown voice asked.

"The elder shall be taken care of in short order," Corbin replied. "Doric and Kieron were able to join his scouting party. They shall deal with him as we discussed, and then they shall make for Denerim."

"Why do they get to go off to Denerim while we're still stuck here?" a second mysterious voice asked.

"Because, you fool," Corbin began, "it would be far less suspicious for them to disappear than it would be for them to return to camp without the elder Cousland brat!"

Amee realized things were far worse than she had imagined. Not only was Corbin secretly a blood mage, but also, from the sound of it, he was plotting murder. She considered running to get backup from Alistair and the other Warden recruits at that very moment, but something compelled her to stay. Staying meant she could learn more, and that, in turn, meant that she and her friends might be better prepared to face these men.

She then heard the sound of scraping metal. It was the same noise she had heard whenever Duncan had sharpened his blades on the road to Ostagar. A third stranger then said, "So what do we do about the younger one?"

"Like his brother, I recommend that we wait for him to leave camp and then strike. After all, making it look like a darkspawn attack would be in the best interests of our employer."

"Fine," said the third one gruffly. "But he'd better not take his sweet time leaving camp 'cause I'm getting bored sitting here with nothing to kill."

Still crouching to the ground, Amee suddenly felt a tug at the back of her robes. She suppressed the surge of dread trying to overwhelm her, and turned her head defiantly to face whatever fiend was behind her. As she turned around, she found herself staring into a pair of dark, round eyes.

And then her face was wet.

The way the dog was panting with his mouth open and tongue out, it was as if he was smiling at her. Smiling! After nearly scaring her half to death and then covering her face with his saliva, he had the gall to be smiling!

She chuckled to herself at the thought, petted the dog, and decided to leave. She had heard enough to pass along to others, and she did not want to press her luck. She started to rise, but then a sickening feeling came to her stomach when she heard a twig snap underneath her.

Amee started to move faster, but it wasn't fast enough. Corbin and about a half-dozen other men came out from either side of the tent with their weapons drawn and surrounded her.

"Told you I heard something," said a man wielding two swords. His voice sounded just like the one that had wanted to kill something.

"So you did," Corbin said to the man before turning his eyes toward Amee. "Who are you, girl, and what are you doing here?"

Everyone had their weapons out and at the ready, but they were not yet in attack positions. Amee knew that whether things would stay that way depended greatly on her answers to those questions. _Play dumb,_ she told herself.

"I was just looking for my dog," she said as she petted the mabari beside her. The dog had taken a defensive stance too, appearing somewhat rigid and ready to fight anything that moved.

"You are the mage I saw earlier—the healer and Grey Warden—are you not?"

"I am." _The fewer words, the better._

"Lord Bryon took an interest in you, and even defended you in front of the Reverend Mother, didn't he?"

_You were there,_ she wanted to say, but thought the better of it. "He did," she replied simply.

"Perfect," Corbin said, before his eyes strayed behind her shoulder. "Try not to kill her just yet." Amee did not have time to spin around to see what Corbin was looking at. Before she could mount any sort of defense, a powerful force collided with the back of her head, and everything went to darkness.


	5. Chapter 4 Ostagar Part 3

_**Author's Note:**_ Sorry for the delay in posting. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

She had been able to fend off the demons of the Fade while she was unconscious, but now Amee had to deal with the villains in the tent with her and the throbbing pain at the back of her head. From what she could tell, she was on the ground with her hands bound behind her back and her mouth gagged. She stayed still but looked around the tent. Several lanterns illuminated the space. Corbin and four other men were standing at a table a few feet away. The mage was putting together some sort of mixture, and the others were looking a bit anxious, pacing or fingering their weapons. Amee could see her staff leaning against the far end of the table.

One of the men spoke up, "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course," Corbin replied. "This way we can be rid of the pointy-eared spy and the younger Cousland all in one night. And on top of that, we can put the blame on the Wardens for taking on a murderous recruit."

"This stuff," one of the men asked as he lifted a bottle, "can do all that? It can make someone do whatever you want them to?"

"With a little help from me," Corbin said, snatching the bottle back and returning it carefully to its place on the table, "yes it can."

Amee now had an idea of what the other mage was making. She had heard stories about how blood mages would enthrall some of their victims to force them into doing their bidding. Amee also knew rumors about forbidden potions that would make such a thing easier, leaving a person's mind vulnerable and more readily susceptible to the commands of another. The pieces began to fall into place. They wanted a man dead… They were making a potion that would turn her into their puppet… They wanted to pass the guilt for a murder onto the Wardens…

_They're going to make me kill that noble! _Amee thought, as bitterness grew within her. This had been—by far—the worst month of her life. She had faced her Harrowing, her best friend's betrayal, her exile from her home, and now this. She'd had enough, and with a newfound determination, she wasn't going to let herself be pushed around any longer.

Without drawing the men's attention, Amee slowly rolled herself so that she was facing away from the table. Any sort of attack without her staff would be weaker, but she had to try it. She took a glance behind her shoulder and aimed her tied hands as best she could. She held her breath as she hoped that an arcane bolt would be enough to set the table ablaze.

* * *

Astor had been gone for nearly half an hour. Although Bryon usually didn't mind when the mabari took to roaming Highever for hours on end, he didn't really like the idea of his dog wandering off alone into the Wilds.

Bryon called the dog's name several times but received no response. He then decided to see if he could track Astor down. _A two-hundred-pound mabari shouldn't be that hard to find,_ he thought. And the dog's trail actually wasn't. Bryon found out that not only had Astor stopped at three fire pits, but also that he had managed to charm food out of the men at each one. After that, though, the dog's trail began to fade and the only thing left in that general direction was the tent for Howe's men. It was slightly offset from the rest of the camp and had no fire pit outside that might draw Astor's attention, but Bryon had nowhere else to look.

As he walked along the path, Bryon heard an odd noise behind him and slightly to his left. The average soldier would have turned to look for the source of this sound, but luckily Bryon was no average soldier. Every day of his youth, he had trained side-by-side with a rogue and had picked up on a few of the tricks used by such a fighter. Distraction was a common tactic and could easily be followed by a lethal attack if properly executed.

But Bryon had trained with the best. Compared to his sister, the rogue that jumped out on his right was just pathetic, and the trap he had set was far too obvious. Bryon had his sword drawn and was ready for the attack before his assailant even had a chance. Another man sprang out at him after the first, but Bryon quickly cut him down as well.

He examined the corpses and was taken aback to see that these were two of the men that Howe had sent with them. He did not dwell on it for long, though, because his attention was soon caught by a commotion coming from inside the nearby tent. Bryon could hear shouting and see smoke beginning to billow from the tent's opening.

* * *

"Blast it!" Corbin yelled as he reached through the flames to salvage a vial before completely covering the table with ice.

The arcane bolt did nothing to free Amee from her current constraints, but she hoped it would be enough to buy her time or perhaps even cause someone else to notice that something was going on here.

"Grab her!" Corbin growled at one of the other men. This giant of a man wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her so that her back was pressed against his chest and her feet were dangling above the ground. She tried to release another bolt but, with her head still aching and the man holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe, it was too difficult to focus.

"You just had to be troublesome, didn't you?" Corbin snarled at her. "But it didn't do you any good, though, did it?" he said, pulling the gag from her mouth and grabbing her jaw, "And now you're going to stop being troublesome and start doing as you are told."

Corbin still had the vial in his hand, and with the other, he was trying to pry open her mouth. Amee clamped down her jaw tightly, but Corbin just called over another man to help him. This other man pinched down on her nose, grabbed her chin, and forcibly opened her mouth.

Just as Corbin uncorked the vial, the tent flap flew open revealing a tall figure in the entranceway. This caught the other mage off guard, and Amee took the opportunity to kick the vial out of his hand while he was distracted.

In the meantime, the newcomer had taken on the two men closest to the entrance. They had drawn their weapons at his appearance and charged at him, but the newcomer dispatched them quickly. He then stepped fully into the light of the tent, and Amee recognized him as the young noble that Corbin wanted dead. Upon seeing him, the one man released Amee's nose and chin and drew his double blades, while the other man loosened his hold on her.

"Cousland," Corbin said, practically hissing the name as he spoke it. "How good of you to join us. Now I don't have to go find you before I kill you." The young man stood ready with his sword and shield, but Amee knew he wasn't ready for what was coming. Before he could cross the distance to strike Corbin, the other mage's hand flew into his sleeve and withdrew a knife. With a quick stab into his own hand, Corbin had the young man writhing in pain from a blood magic spell.

The man with two swords was moving in to finish off the noble, but Amee noticed that the arms around her had slackened enough that she could now breathe again and, more importantly, focus. She shot an arcane bolt directly behind her, causing both her captor and herself to forcefully topple over. It knocked out the man who had been holding her and distracted the swordsman, but the other mage still held the young man down in pain.

Amee didn't think she could pull off another arcane bolt that would be strong enough to deter Corbin, so she did the only thing she could. She scrambled to stand up and physically threw herself into the other mage. The tackle was enough to break Corbin's concentration, and the noble recovered himself. He launched a series of attacks and parries against the fighter with two swords.

Corbin easily shoved Amee off of himself, given that her hands were still tied behind her back. As he was rising from the ground, Corbin made ready his knife, preparing for another assault against the young man. But before Corbin could finish standing, the young man had decapitated his opponent and in one fluid movement had thrust his blade into Corbin's chest.

As blood dripped from the mage's lips, he whispered to the noble, "My master shall avenge us." At that comment, the young man withdrew his blade and let Corbin fall to the dirt.

He then turned his gaze to Amee. The stoic fighter's face from a moment before had changed to one filled with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, putting away his sword and kneeling down beside her.

"Are you? You're the one they were after." she replied, allowing some of her built-up exasperation to enter her voice as he cut her binds with a dagger from his belt.

"Excuse me, milady, but I wasn't the one these fiends tied up and tried to poison." His somewhat cheeky tone was infuriating to Amee. _Who acts like a dashing hero after nearly getting killed?_

"They weren't trying to poison me. They were trying to make me drink something that would force me to kill you," she said bluntly, rubbing her now liberated wrists before facing the young man again. _Good,_ she thought, noticing new sternness in his eyes, _at least now he looks like he's beginning to take things a bit seriously._

"Did they tell you why or what they hoped to gain from it?"

"Not really," she said as the memories of what she had overheard earlier came rushing to the forefront of her mind. "They did say something about having an employer, who wanted both you and your brother dead, and who, if at all possible, wanted it to look like someone else did it. But that doesn't answer why this employer would want you dead."

"It doesn't make sense. These men were in the service of Arl Rendon Howe. He's my father's best friend; he wouldn't have any reason to kill me or my brother." He paused for a moment in thought. "You said they were going to send you to kill me. Did they say anything about how they were going to try to kill my brother?"

Amee told him what she had heard Corbin and the others say about the planned attack on the elder Cousland in the Wilds and then answered the young man's questions about how she came to be there. After taking in this information, the younger Cousland stood and helped her to her feet. After everything she had been through, Amee's legs were being a bit uncooperative, but the young man held her firmly until she was steady. She was still somewhat annoyed with him. She didn't need his help; she could do this on her own. But there were his arms, strong yet gentle, supporting her, so unlike anyone who had ever touched her before.

The tent flap opened again, and Cousland instinctively moved to stand between Amee and the entranceway. One of his arms was raised protectively in front of her, and the other went to the hilt of his sword. He relaxed his stance as he saw the men that entered. They bore the same crest as the young man, and their leader spoke first.

"Are you alright, milord? Some of the men reported hearing a disturbance from this direction, and we found two bodies on the way here," he said, eyeing the other bodies scattered around the room.

"I'm fine, Captain, but there is much that needs to be done. It appears that Arl Howe's men have betrayed us."

"But why, milord?"

"We'll have to figure that part out as we go, Captain. Now I need you and your men to get to work on this tonight. First, check the bodies here and make sure all of Howe's men are accounted for. If any of them are still alive, keep them that way so we can interrogate them and find out what's going on. Two of Howe's men went with Fergus into the Wilds, so I want scouts dispatched immediately to find my brother and keep him safe."

The young man paused, and Amee was surprised to see him hesitate. He had been so confident in doling out orders thus far, but whatever thought had just entered his mind seemed to truly bother him.

He soon began again, saying, "And send men to Highever. They should take the path that my father would take to get here. If they find him along the way, they are to inform him of the situation but not in the Arl's presence. If they do not cross my father's path, they are to continue on to Highever and report this news to my sister."

"It shall be done, milord," the Captain said. Noticing the frozen table on the ground, he continued, "Shall I also inform the Chantry of this, milord? It appears that magic was at work here tonight."

_Great,_ Amee thought, _now_ _the Chantry's getting involved. Two incidents with blood mages in the same month—no doubt by tomorrow, I'll either be dead or tranquil._ She could not decide which fate would be worse. She looked to Cousland awaiting his response and noticed that his eyes were now on her.

"You will escort this young woman back to the Grey Wardens first before informing the Chantry of anything." He turned back to the Captain before continuing, "When you make your report to the Chantry, there is no need to mention her presence here tonight. Understood?"

Amee was completely surprised by Cousland's order. A thousand thoughts began whirling through her mind. _Why would he help me? Did he remember how much I disliked the templars earlier? Why would that even matter to him? Aren't normal people supposed to hate or distrust mages?_

"Yes, milord, but," the Captain began. _Here we go, _Amee thought, wondering if the Captain would convince the noble to stop acting crazy and start acting more like she would expect a non-mage and non-Warden to act. _What sort of person defends a mage against the Chantry twice in one day anyway?_

The Captain continued, "If this girl led you out here, shouldn't she be questioned? She could be involved in this as well."

"She didn't lead me here. I came to this tent looking for Astor." Cousland looked back at Amee, and, as if he could read the next question that had come to her mind, he added, "My dog."

"A mabari?" Amee asked.

"Yes. Have you seen him?"

"A mabari was with me on the side of the tent when Corbin and his men attacked me." She pointed to the side of the tent where she had hidden herself earlier. Cousland left the tent, and Amee and most of the other soldiers from Highever followed. His strides were longer, so he made it outside faster than she did. When she came to the side of the tent, she saw the noble kneeling beside a large limp figure, gently petting it with an ungloved hand.

Amee moved closer and saw that patches of the dog's skin were charred. Corbin had apparently subjected it to a lightning spell. She felt horrible. If she hadn't followed Corbin alone and if she could have only avoided drawing the attention of Howe's men, then this wouldn't have happened to the poor animal—

_Wait!_ Amee thought as she continued to look at the dog. Then she saw it again. _A breath! _It was shallow and weak, but it was a sign that there was still life in him.

"I need lyrium," she said, as she too knelt down beside the mabari.

"Can you heal an animal?" Cousland asked.

"I can try."

One of the soldiers went back into tent and soon reemerged with a bottle. Amee drank its contents quickly and felt her mana restored. She then focused on the dog and its injuries. The wounds were severe; if left unattended, they would have killed the mabari. After several minutes of healing, though, Astor began to stir. Eventually, he opened his eyes and let out a happy bark at the sight of his master.

Amee backed away and stood up, as the mabari grew stronger and proceeded to jump on and lick his master. And, to Amee, the master looked just as happy as the dog. However much the young man might annoy her, she couldn't help but smile at the pair of them. After a few moments, she then turned away from them and walked back towards the entrance of the tent.

"Wait!" She heard from behind her. "Are you leaving?"

She turned back around to see that the noble had stood and that Astor was beside him wagging his tail cheerfully.

"I need to retrieve my staff and then get back to the Wardens' camp," she replied.

Cousland looked at one of his men and with a quick tilt of his head toward the tent, the soldier disappeared under the canvas. "My men will escort you back," he said.

"That isn't necessary—" Amee began.

"But it _is_ necessary, for my own well-being, if not for yours. Given what was going on here, I would feel better if you were not travelling alone. Besides, you were attacked in my camp tonight, and I must make amends for that." The soldier returned with her staff in hand and presented it to her.

"Fine," she said, taking up her staff and beginning to turn around again.

Before she could manage to face the road, though, he began again, "There is one more thing I would ask of you."

She turned to him with her brow furrowed, wondering what he could possibly want.

"May I know your name?"

Somewhat surprised by the politeness and innocence of the question, Amee's expression softened. "My name is Amelyn Surana." She hesitated before adding, "But most people call me Amee."

He offered his hand as if he wanted to shake hers. She placed her small hand within his substantially larger one and was again surprised by him. Instead of shaking it, he brought her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss atop it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Amee. As you may have ascertained already, I am Bryon Cousland, but please call me Bryon."

Not knowing how she felt about the young man's gesture, but certain that she did not want to let him off too easily, Amee replied, "But that would be asking _two_ more things of me, milord. I believe I agreed to give you only one."

Bryon smiled at that and returned her hand. "Very well, then. I shall merely thank you for uncovering the plans of Howe's men and for saving my dog, and bid you goodnight."

She bowed her head in response and moved her foot to turn once more—

"But should you ever need anything," Bryon added, "do not hesitate to seek help here."

"Thank you, milord." Amee said. After that, she finally managed to turn around, strap her staff on behind her, and begin her walk back to the Wardens' camp.

Two of Bryon's men followed her. It was strange to be watched by knights not because they feared she might turn into an abomination at any moment, but because they were supposed to protect her. Looking back on it, the night had been peculiar to Amee in so many ways. And now, for some reason she didn't understand—or at least wouldn't admit—she caught herself gently brushing her fingers along the top of the hand she had given to Bryon.


	6. Chapter 5 Reunion Part 1

_**Author's Note: **_The 'Reunion' was a bit a long so it's been broken into two chapters, both from Alistair's perspective. I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading and reviewing! I really do appreciate the encouragement.

* * *

Alistair was only half paying attention as the mage was yelling at him about the Revered Mother. She was still getting back at Alistair for his impudence in standing up for Amee several days ago. Now she was having him deliver a message to the mage before him, and the conversation couldn't be going more swimmingly. Having failed several times to convince the mage that he wasn't the cause of his problems, Alistair just let the mage continue with his rant and tried to find something else to keep his mind occupied.

That's when he spotted a young woman walking toward the ruins with a mabari at her side. She entered the adjacent room where the other Warden recruits were gathered. He was planning on having a little chat with them about their recent behavior once he was done talking to the mage, but he wasn't sure how much good it would do. He'd had chats with them before and still he had just yesterday caught Daveth stealing from a tranquil and even Amee had disappeared for hours one evening without telling anyone where she had gone.

Yes, the recruits were giving him trouble, the mage wouldn't stop grumbling at him, and Alistair was certain that, with his luck, this new girl was here just to introduce new problems to his life.

"Are you the Grey Warden recruits?" she asked, standing just inside the entrance.

"What's it to you, love?" Daveth replied in his ever-smarmy tone as he leaned back against a stone wall on the opposite side of the room. He had been hassling or insulting everyone ever since Alistair made him return the stolen items, and this girl was apparently no exception.

"Duncan told me to find you all. I am a new recruit as well."

_Duncan!_ Alistair was once again elated by the thought of having his mentor back and was happier this time to have it actually confirmed by someone. He took a second look over the girl, seeing her now as Duncan's new recruit, and he couldn't help but be surprised by her. She certainly wasn't what he was expecting when that noble from Highever had mentioned a Ser Gilmore. He had thought Gilmore would be a male knight as big as the Cousland brothers with a sword and shield at hand. Although this young woman had a sword and shield strapped on her back, they didn't appear to be her preferred weapons, especially given the placement of her hands at the hilts of her daggers.

Upon further inspection of her features, she appeared to be a walking contradiction to Alistair, and not just because of the mismatched weapons. She was beautiful—that was obvious even to someone as inexperienced with women as Alistair. Her face and body were perfectly shaped, but then again, Alistair thought, _What is a woman that gorgeous doing being armed, armored, and on a battlefield?_

He stopped focusing on certain parts of her anatomy before his templar training gave out on him and moved on to other perplexities. Her leather armor was pristine. It looked as if she maintained it as well as he maintained his splintmail. Yet at the same time, from this distance, it seemed as if parts of her neck and face were covered in dirt. _Who cleans their armor but not their face?_

Daveth soon interrupted his thoughts by saying, "I don't think I understand Duncan's recruitment strategy. What does he plan to do? Line up a bunch of pretty faces in front of the darkspawn and hope that it'll distract them long enough so that us _real_ fighters can take care of them?"

"There must be some method to Duncan's madness," the young woman replied in a no-nonsense tone, "especially if he recruits someone who judges another without first having any idea of that person's skill."

"Oh, I have an idea of your _skill, _lovely," Daveth said huskily, "and I'm betting it doesn't lie with what's _on_ your belt but rather with what's just _beneath_ it." Alistair thought he couldn't be any more disgusted with Daveth's crudeness, but the rogue proceeded to amaze him as he followed up his last comment with a slow licking of his upper lip.

But before Daveth could finish the lewd gesture, both he and Alistair were distracted by a streak of bright, reflective metal that flew from the girl's direction toward the rogue. Alistair saw Daveth wince as the rogue bit down on his tongue in fear. The piece of metal was, in fact, a dagger that now was buried between two stones only inches away from Daveth's head.

Trying to recover some scrap of dignity, Daveth said, "Ha! You missed!"

"I wasn't aiming to kill you, but merely to prove a point. Not all things are as they appear to be, and you should not rush so quickly to judgment. In doing so, you might end up getting yourself and others killed."

The young woman was making Daveth angry, and that made Alistair a bit nervous. Daveth had lashed out violently on a few occasions when he was upset, and while this girl appeared to know how to throw a dagger, Alistair didn't know how well she would be able to defend herself in a brawl against Daveth. He didn't want to see a recruit get hurt, especially not when he was so close to handing most of the recruit responsibilities back over to Duncan.

Alistair stepped away from the mage, who was still going on about his grievances with the Chantry, and moved towards the other room.

Daveth was glaring at the young woman, but both were keeping to the opposite sides of the room. "You little…you little…" Daveth sputtered, unable to articulate any sort of insult.

The girl did not appear to be in a forgiving mood, so she jumped on Daveth's speechlessness. "I sincerely hope that whatever skill you were recruited for doesn't have anything to do with your wit."

Amee and the dwarf, ex-princess Hildra snickered at the young woman's retort, and that was enough to drive Daveth over the edge. "You can give it," Daveth began, "but how well can you take it."

In a flash, he had grabbed the dagger from between the stones. Alistair moved as quickly as he could to try to stop Daveth, but it wasn't quickly enough. He reached the rogue only seconds after the dagger had been let loose into the air.

Alistair shoved Daveth against the wall with his forearm, not wanting to turn around and see the fate that had befallen the new recruit. He had been so close to keeping them all alive and relatively unharmed, but Daveth had no doubt just ruined everything. Alistair had seen the trajectory—the dagger most likely went straight through the girl's heart. He wondered if Amee would be able to save her, but after another second passed, he wondered why no one was reacting the way he was.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see Amee positioned exactly where she had been standing a few moments ago. _Doesn't seeing someone get impaled affect any of these people?_

Finally, after what seemed like ages but what was, in reality, only a few seconds, Alistair heard a reaction from Ser Jory, although it was not the reaction he was expecting. The knight from Redcliffe merely uttered the word "Wow."

At that, Alistair turned around. The girl was alive, standing, and looking completely unfazed by what had just happened. Alistair's mouth went agape as he saw her hand was extended in front of her chest, clutching the dagger that had been thrown at her. _She caught it! _He thought in amazement. He knew she would have to be incredibly fast to catch a dagger like that_. No wonder Duncan recruited her._

"Thanks for returning my dagger," she said coolly as she put the weapon back in its sheath. "But your technique could really use some work."

"Bloody hell," Daveth muttered as he saw what the girl had managed to do. With Alistair's arm still crushing into his chest, though, he added much more loudly, "Will you sodding get off me?"

This woke Alistair from his reverie. He let go of Daveth and began to approach the girl, but the mage stepped into his path.

"I have had enough of your insolence," the mage began. "First, you harass me with the Revered Mother's message and then you ignore me to carry out shenanigans with this lot. I will not be insulted thus."

That was Alistair's breaking point. He lost his patience as well as his sense of propriety and just let the mage have it in the most sarcastic tone he could produce. "Right, because _I_ was the one harassing _you _by delivering a message."

Alistair had hardly spoken during the mage's last round of complaints, so the mage was caught a bit off guard by his reply. "Your glibness does you no credit," the mage stated.

"Aww, that's too bad," Alistair retorted. "And here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you—the grumpy one."

It seemed that the mage had heard enough after that comment. "Fine," he said. "I will go speak to the Revered Mother." The mage then turned around and stormed off through the entranceway.

With the mage gone, Alistair had a clear view of the girl, who was now giving him a questioning look. _Nice going, Alistair. You really know how to make a good first impression, _he thought to himself.

"Sorry about all that," he said. "Mages tend to get a bit cranky at times—"

"I heard that!" Amee said from behind him.

"Right, sorry Amee," he said turning toward Amee and then back to the new girl. "And I'm sorry about Daveth as well. He gets cranky at times too."

"Hey!" Daveth yelled, but Alistair ignored him.

"There's no need for apologies," the young woman began. "I do not need any special treatment, and I can hold my own against any who challenge me."

"Right" was the only response that came to Alistair's mind. He didn't know how to react to this girl's sternness. He couldn't tell if she was just intensely determined to be a Warden and had hidden her emotions away, or if she was, in fact, empty inside.

After a few moments of this inward contemplation and outward awkward silence, Alistair closed the ten feet or so separating them and offered his hand. "I'm…" he began but soon stopped. At this distance, he could see she wasn't the contradiction he had thought her to be. What looked like dirt from afar was actually a number of bruises on her face and neck. They were a light green color, which meant that they were healing, but he wondered what had happened to her and whether damage had been done beyond her physical wounds.

"You're?" the young woman spoke and made him realize he had been staring and shaking her hand dumbly but still had not said anything.

"I'm Alistair," he managed to say. "You said you were Duncan's new recruit. We were expecting a Ser Gilmore of Highever. Are you Gilmore?"

"No, I'm not," she said, casting her eyes downward and releasing his hand. Barking could be heard from across the camp, and the girl's mabari left her side at the sound of it.

"Lux," she said, as she looked at the dog and patted her hip to make him return to her. The mabari did not heed his mistress' command, though, and instead began barking in the entranceway.

"It's most likely just one of the Ash Warriors' dogs that has his attention. They raise mabari, you know."

"I know," she stated almost disinterestedly, ignoring Alistair and continuing to look at her dog. _Great, someone else who could care less about your existence,_ he thought.

"Lux!" she said louder and more forcefully, but still the mabari did not move. He was fixed on the barking in the distance, which was steadily becoming clearer.

Alistair could soon see the source of that barking. Another mabari was bounding toward the ruins as fast as his legs could carry him.

At the sight of the approaching dog, the girl quietly said, "Astor?"

_You really are pathetic—your name's not even worth remembering, _Alistair thought, before he tried to correct her. "It's Alistair, actual—"

"Astor!" she yelled as the second mabari reached the ruins and wrestled with her own dog for a moment. She left Alistair and knelt down beside the animals, who calmed down at her appearance. She rubbed behind Astor's ears, and the dog let out a happy bark in response. "Good boy," she said, as she continued to give attention to Astor with one hand and began petting Lux with the other. "Good boys."

She rose as another figure ascended the stairs leading into the ruins. Alistair saw that it was Bryon Cousland, who appeared to be intently focused on the new recruit. As soon as she was up, the young woman ran to Bryon and threw her arms around him, shedding her stoicism somewhat and allowing signs of relief to creep into her features.

In that moment, Alistair couldn't help but feel a bit envious of the noble. He seemed to have everything—an army that respected him, a father and brother that not only acknowledged his existence but also that loved him, and now a beautiful woman that would obviously give him the time of day. Alistair felt as if he would never experience such things.

_But then again, some men are idiots and don't appreciate what they've got, _he thought as he saw Bryon pull the girl off of him and hold her squarely by the shoulders. The noble was ignoring the audience surrounding him and looked only at the girl. He moved one of his hands to her chin and turned her head to inspect what appeared to be the worst of her bruises.

"What happened?" Bryon asked. "Was it Howe?"

Alistair, along with the rest of Ostagar, had heard about the attempt on Bryon's life by a group of Arl Howe's men. What was not known, however, was whether the men had acted on their own or under the Arl's orders. If the Arl made some other move against the Couslands, his part in this plot would be confirmed. No word had been received yet from Highever or the teyrn, though, so everything said about the Arl was merely conjecture. Or, at least, it was until this girl nodded her head.

Any hint of emotion once again left her face as she began, "It was Howe. His men attacked the castle at night once our army was well on its way south."

"How many survivors were there?"

She replied somberly, "Howe didn't want survivors. He didn't spare anyone. Father…Mother…Oriana…Oren—they're all gone."

"Maker, Bena," Bryon said before pulling her into an embrace.

From their conversation and their similar features, Alistair realized that the two were brother and sister and that Arl Howe had destroyed practically everything that they held dear. _And you had to go be an ass and think that she was mean for not being more attentive to you when she's just lost her entire family!_

The girl was the first one to pull away from the embrace this time. She reached behind her and removed the sword and shield from her back. "Father and Mother wanted you and Fergus to have these. The king informed me that Fergus hasn't been found yet, so I think that you should hold onto both of these until he is. Then you can decide who gets what."

She was still emotionless when she spoke. Bryon threw the straps holding the sword and shield over his arm, and then took up her hands in his. "I'll find him, Ben. First, I'll get you somewhere safe and then I'll find him."

That seemed to awaken something in her—something that looked like anger. She pulled further away from him and said, "No, I'm not going anywhere."

Before Bryon could respond, a deep voice at the entranceway said, "Good, you've managed to find the rest of the recruits and one of your brothers."

"Duncan!" Alistair said. Seeing Duncan brought some joy to Alistair despite the present gloom that surrounded him.

"Alistair," Duncan nodded at the young Warden before turning to greet Bryon.

"Duncan," the young noble began, "are you the reason my sister survived the attack on our home?"

"I assisted Lady Cousland in her escape."

"Then I am in your debt," Bryon replied.

"There is no need for that. A price has already been paid for my assistance." For some reason, Alistair couldn't shake the feeling that Duncan's words held an ominous tone.

"What price was that?" Bryon asked.

Bena was the one to answer. "In exchange for helping me flee the castle, it was agreed upon that I would become a Grey Warden recruit."

"'Agreed upon'?" Bryon stated, conveying a hint of agitation in both his voice and glares. "How was this agreement made exactly?"

"Father and I both agreed to it," Bena replied, allowing some emotion to come across in her own voice. "Ser Gilmore…he…he sacrificed himself trying to save Mother and I. Duncan no longer had a recruit, Father was too badly wounded to flee with us, and Mother wouldn't leave without him. They both wanted me to live, to find you and Fergus, and to let you know of Howe's treachery. The only way things could work out for everyone under the circumstances—where everyone could at least get something that they wanted—was for Father to give his consent that I become a Grey Warden."

"'Work out for everyone'! Let me make sure I understand this correctly," Bryon said, turning to face Duncan. "You wait until my father is dying and you give him the choice of using his final breaths either to promise his only daughter over to the Wardens or to watch her die! What sort of people are you Wardens?"

The young man's wrath was obviously growing. Alistair saw his hand go to the hilt of his sword, and the young Warden reacted in kind. Part of him couldn't help but agree with Bryon that Duncan was wrong in recruiting Bena in such an underhanded way. But then again, many recruits had faced hardships in getting to this place. Some had even been conscripted. And, in the end, no matter what had brought Bena here, Alistair's loyalties were with Duncan.

Thankfully, he didn't have to move against the young man. Although he would have done whatever Duncan thought was best, Alistair hated the idea of taking another loved one from a girl who had already lost so many. Perhaps she feared such loss too, as she grabbed Bryon's arm and stayed his hand.

"You can't understand what happened that night," she said, stepping between Bryon and Duncan. "You weren't there."

"I should have been," Bryon replied with a much steadier voice.

"You can't change that now."

"But I can change this," Bryon said, moving his sister behind him. Alistair kept his hand at the ready above his sword, not knowing what the noble's next move would be. He did not anticipate Bryon's next words. "Take me in her stead."

"What?" Bena exclaimed.

"There is a debt to be fulfilled by the Cousland family. A recruit is needed for the Grey Wardens. Why should this recruit be my sister when I am willing to take her place?"

"I cannot accept your offer, Lord Bryon, however generous it may be," Duncan began. Before Bryon could protest, he continued, "While I could accept you as a recruit in addition to your sister, the only one with the power to allow you to be her replacement is Lady Bena herself."

"Please, Ben," Bryon said, turning to his sister, "let me do this."

"No, Bryon."

"I want you to be safe. Being a Warden would mean you'd be surrounded by fighting and death and darkspawn for the rest of your life. You could go somewhere like Denerim, somewhere away from all this darkness."

"To what end? I would serve no purpose in such a place. Here I would have a purpose. There is nothing left for me anywhere else."

"Reconsider," Bryon pleaded.

"No," Bena replied with such finality that Alistair felt that the discussion had to be over. Apparently, Bryon had picked up on this as well.

"Fine. I have other things to tend to if you'll not listen to reason," Bryon shouted before turning once more to Duncan. "But I don't want her leaving Ostagar on _Warden business _until after you and I have had a chance to speak again."

"The recruits will not be leaving camp until tomorrow morning. Beyond that I can make no promises."

Bryon made no reply but simply stormed off. Astor whined, as he looked first at his master distancing himself from the ruins and then up at Bena.

"Go on, then," she said to the mabari in as kind a tone as she could muster. "Keep him out of trouble."

The dog gave a cheerful bark in response and went after his master with his tail wagging proudly in the air.

"Is happiness always so easy for the hound?" Duncan asked of her in a voice so soft that Alistair could barely hear it.

"Yes. He knows he is loved and he knows he has a duty to fulfill," Bena replied, also quietly. "I only wish humans could be so easily satisfied."


	7. Chapter 6 Reunion Part 2

That evening, most of the recruits went to bed early, knowing that tomorrow they would start on a task that would lead to their Joining ritual. From across the Wardens' camp, though, Alistair noticed that Bena was still up and sitting by the fire with her mabari.

Duncan had been giving Alistair instructions on how to handle the next day's expedition into the Wilds. Once Duncan reached a stopping point, Alistair asked, "Is she alright?"

Duncan saw that Alistair was referring to Bena. They were out of earshot, so Duncan was frank with Alistair. "I do not know. A tragedy like the one she has endured can deeply scar a person. On top of that, she seems to be holding back most of her emotions. Should she continue to do this, and should one day her emotions overwhelm her to the point where she can no longer contain them, it may break her."

"Do you think she's unstable? That she could be a liability to us in the field?"

"I think that she is one of the best dagger fighters I have ever seen, and she seems to have uncanny instinct and reflexes. Besides, if she cannot manage to come to terms with her emotions, perhaps she could learn to become devoid of them. Although I would hate to see the girl's soul crushed in such a way, it may be the only way to preserve some piece of her skill."

Alistair knew that being a Warden at times meant making terrible sacrifices, but he hoped that the girl would not lose herself as Duncan had described. "Is there something that could be done to help her?"

"I had hoped seeing her brother would help her, but, as you saw, their reunion did not have the desired effect. And for the last week as we travelled, I tried to help her deal with her emotions, but still she has not shed a single tear for her family. She has nightmares too, which are no doubt the reason why she is still awake now. She lets emotion show while she has those dreams in her sleep, but when she is awake, she is always her hardened self.

"If she just allowed herself to feel some sort of emotion, I believe that might do her some good. Even if it were something as simple as a smile, which I have also not seen her wear in a week, I think that would help her. But then again, there seems to be very little to smile about in these dark times," Duncan said with a sigh as he looked across the camp at Bena. "I must go and tend to other matters now, Alistair. You should get some rest before the work begins tomorrow."

"Right," Alistair replied, but he had no intention of going to bed just yet. He had a new task to complete that evening. Although it had been a rough start for the two of them earlier in the day, this task was still something Alistair thought wouldn't be overly challenging. _It's not as if I'm going to try to get a complete understanding of the emotional complexities of a woman tonight,_ he thought. Alistair knew that would be a hopeless endeavor that he would _never_ accomplish. No, tonight he only had one simple goal in mind: _Make her smile._

"Hello," he said walking up to her as she cleaned her daggers.

Bena looked up at him and responded in kind.

"I was in the middle of introducing myself to you earlier, but I never really had the opportunity to finish." He moved close enough to offer his hand to her and said, "I'm Alistair."

At that, Lux began barking and growling at Alistair to the point where the Warden pulled his hand away in fear that the dog might snap it off despite his armor.

"Lux!" Bena said in a disciplining tone. "Stop that." The dog stopped making noise but continued to keep his eyes fixed on Alistair. Bena rose to her feet. "Sorry about that. He tends to get a bit agitated at night lately when there are strangers around."

"That's alright," Alistair replied, before turning his attention to the dog and using the best baby-talk he could come up with. "I'm sure the ittle-wittle puppy wasn't weally gonna hurt me." He tried extending his hand to pet the dog during this comment, but was only met with a snarl that again caused him to draw his hand away.

Alistair looked at Bena, and she apparently wasn't amused by him either. "It's really best if you speak to him like you would a normal person," she replied in her usual, cold tone.

"Right," Alistair said, ready to slink back to his side of the camp. He couldn't believe how foolish he had been with his earlier determination. _Her own brother couldn't make her smile, how could I?_ He thought, before trying to take his leave as quickly as possible. "I'll just be go—"

"But," she began, and that one word gave Alistair the teensiest bit of hope, so he turned back toward her. She was looking down at Lux and petting the mabari's head. "He really shouldn't be acting like this. He needs to learn how to trust new people again."

"How?" Alistair asked.

She looked back up at him, and said, "If you would be willing to indulge me, there is one thing we might try."

"Alright," Alistair replied. _What's the worst possible thing that could happen?_

"Could you remove your gauntlet?" _You could get your hand bitten off—that would definitely be a bad thing,_ Alistair thought, but then again, he believed that whatever this exercise would be, it might benefit the girl as much as it would her dog. For that, he was willing to give it a try.

He nodded and removed the gauntlet. He was slightly nervous, and those nerves soon took over his comments. "You know, I'm willing to try this, but I just want you to be aware that it would be very difficult to be a one-handed Warden. I may even have to give up my career fighting darkspawn and take up something like one-handed juggling. And the life of a one-handed juggler is not easy from what I understand."

She made an almost inaudible noise at that comment and bit her lower lip. _Is that a smile she's stifling? _Alistair wondered, but couldn't be certain. She had cast her face downward to focus on removing her own glove.

As she did, Alistair saw further bruises on her wrist, as if someone had roughly held down her arms. He tried not to let his concern show when she looked back up at him. It was an easier task than he thought it would be when he saw that, although she was not smiling, her expression seemed softer and her green eyes looked brighter than they had before.

"You don't need to worry about your hand being bitten off," she began. "If Lux bites off your hand he would also be biting off my hand, and he knows that would be unacceptable."

Not fully understanding what she meant, Alistair just watched Bena. She stuck her ungloved hand in front of Lux's snout. The mabari first sniffed her hand and then began to lick it. "Here," she said taking Alistair's arm with her other hand and bringing him closer. "Slide your hand down mine."

"What?"

"Keep your hand with mine and let him smell and lick you. Our hands will be together, so he'll know I trust you. That will help him to trust you."

Alistair didn't know what was making him more nervous—the idea of putting his hand that close to the jaws of a mabari or the idea of his bare skin touching hers. He had been raised by the Chantry and taught to avoid anything that even remotely seemed like temptation. Touching a woman's skin in anything but the most dire of emergencies was definitely considered a temptation, even if it was just part of something as seemingly innocent as holding hands.

But Alistair had to remember that he wasn't a templar bound to those vows and, more importantly, this was all to help a young woman recover from a tremendous loss. Without any further hesitation, Alistair placed his hand at her wrist and slid it down her hand until it rested between the dog's snout and her palm. As he had moved his hand down, she had spread open his fingers and intertwined hers with his. He was surprised at how well her small hand fit with his. Lux continued to lick his mistress' fingers but apparently picked up on the new set that had appeared. Soon, the dog moved his snout into the center of Alistair's palm. He sniffed for a moment and then began licking again.

"He likes me!" Alistair said, beaming. He turned to look at Bena and realized how close they were. _A gentleman would never invade a lady's personal space like this,_ a voice shouted in the back of his mind. But Alistair wasn't paying attention to it. When he looked at Bena, he saw that she was smiling back at him.

When their eyes met, though, she turned away, but Alistair was happy to see that she didn't put back on her somewhat icy demeanor. "I'm glad he does," she said, pulling their hands away from Lux and then releasing his. She was turning back away from him, moving towards her former spot by the fire.

Alistair was saddened seeing her step away. He had accomplished his goal of making her smile, but then seeing her smile just made him want to see her do it again. It warmed him in an inexplicable way to make her happy.

Just when he was expecting a dismissive comment, though, she surprised him by adding, "I would have hated seeing you become a one-handed juggler. I hear it's quite a challenging career." While she spoke, she sat back down and motioned towards a spot a few feet from her, as if offering it as a place for Alistair to sit. He hesitated for a moment. She was a beautiful woman, and he had just held her hand. Both of these facts just made him nervous about getting too close to her again. _But if a girl who's been through so much wants company, who am I to refuse?_

Alistair settled not far from her and launched into more random babbling and joke telling. Every time she gave him a soft smile, he was filled with encouragement. He was careful to avoid topics that might upset her. Fortunately, she didn't seem to have any bad memories of templars or mages so he talked about his days as a templar-in-training. She asked about his experiences as a Warden too, and he answered what he could while keeping the discussion light-hearted and trying not to reveal any Warden secrets.

They had both moved closer to one another as night went on, but Alistair didn't notice it until an Ash Warrior began singing an epic ballad in the distance. At that point, their conversation had died down, and they just listened to the song. As Bena's head slowly came to rest on his shoulder, that's when Alistair realized how close they were. He completely froze. He'd never been near a woman in this way before, and he didn't know what to say to her. He could tell her to get off him, but he didn't know if he wanted her off of him. _That is an unclean thought, young man,_ rang through his mind in a voice that sounded awfully like the Grand Cleric.

As this internal debate continued, Alistair noticed that Bena's breathing was slow and steady. _She's asleep!_ He thought that this might work in his favor. He could gently move her off of himself and leave without offending her by asking her to move. _Then what?_ Alistair asked himself as he realized he would be leaving her to sleep in the dirt and remembered what Duncan had said about her not sleeping well. To just dump her here would be rude.

_Pick her up, carry her inside her tent, put her on her bedroll, then leave. In and out of her tent in less than two seconds, and none will be the wiser,_ Alistair thought, feeling apprehension yet again this evening.

Ever so gently, he slipped his arm around her back, keeping her head pressed against his chest. He then slid his other arm beneath her knees. At this movement, Lux raised his head at Alistair as if questioning the Warden's actions.

For some reason, Alistair felt compelled to justify himself to the dog. He took Bena's advice and quietly spoke to him as he would a human. "I'm just going to put her on her bedroll where she'll be more comfortable."

The mabari seemed satisfied with this explanation and laid his head back down on his forelegs. Alistair couldn't help but be impressed with how the dog seemed to understand him.

After his exchange with Lux, Alistair stood and carried Bena to her tent. She had left the flap up earlier, which made things a little easier for him. Still, he felt somewhat like a trespasser defiling some sacred place by entering a woman's tent. The feeling evaporated, though, the instant that Bena nestled closer to his chest. It felt so comfortable to hold her, and she just seemed to fit so perfectly in his arms. On top of that, he had never been able to converse with a woman more naturally than he had with her tonight. Part of him didn't want to let her go, but another part told him that he wasn't keeping to his schedule and that would only lead to trouble. He gave out to the latter half and gently set her on the bedroll.

Alistair then left the tent and closed the flap making as little noise as possible. Continuing to look at her tent, Alistair took his next few steps backwards until he ran into something as tall as himself.

Alistair quickly turned around and saw that Bryon Cousland was standing right behind him, glaring at him. "Was that my sister's tent that you just walked out of?" the noble asked with blood obviously boiling in his veins. Duncan was standing just behind Bryon, and it appeared that he was curious to hear Alistair's answer as well.

"Yes, but…but I can explain," Alistair replied in a tone that revealed his anxiety. He wasn't nervous about getting into a fight with Bryon—not that he was certain he could win in a fight with the younger man—but he at least thought he could hold his own against the noble. Instead, what Alistair was really worried about was being thought of as some sort of lecher, especially when it came to Bena.

"Then start explaining," Bryon practically spat.

"Well," Alistair began but then paused. He decided there were some details that Bena's brother didn't need to know about. Without taking a breath, Alistair said, "I saw that Bena was asleep by the fire and Duncan had said how she hadn't been sleeping well and she didn't look comfortable and since I knew she was going to have busy day tomorrow I carried her to her tent and put her on her bedroll and left."

From the look on Bryon's face, Alistair couldn't tell if the noble believed him. He then saw that Lux and Astor were sitting attentively next to Bryon, and Alistair couldn't stop himself from adding, "Lux saw the whole thing. He would support my story."

Duncan let out a hearty laugh at the last comment, and after calming down, he rested his hand on Bryon's shoulder. "I can also provide you with assurance regarding Alistair's character, milord. He is one of the most honorable men that I know, and he would never even consider taking advantage of a young woman."

Bryon still didn't look entirely convinced, but noises coming from Bena's tent caused him to stop glaring at Alistair and instead focus on the tent. Whimpering and repeatedly the word 'no' could be heard from that direction. Bryon looked up, first at Alistair and then at Duncan, before asking, "What is that?"

"Lord Bryon, your sister has been having nightmares ever since…" Duncan paused but soon added, "ever since we left Highever."

At that response, Bryon shoved past Alistair and moved towards Bena's tent just as a final scream of "No!" pierced the night air. It was quickly followed by Bena emerging from the tent, and Alistair saw a terrified look on her face. Her eyes soon found Bryon, though, and her fears seemed slightly alleviated, although the pain was still apparent. "Bryon?" she said at the sight of him, almost asking if he were real or just part of another dream.

He moved closer to her, and, for the first time that day, they both embraced each other without either pulling away. She let go of some of the pain she had been carrying and cried into his shoulder. Although Alistair knew it was a good thing for her to have this release, he still hated seeing her so sad.

"It's alright, Ben," Bryon said soothingly to his sister as he stroked her long brown hair. "We're together now. It's going to be alright."

"I'm glad to see them reconciled," Duncan said, stepping away from the twins to give them privacy and speaking so that only Alistair would hear him. "Having her brother here will no doubt help Bena recover."

"You mean he intends to stay in the Wardens' camp tonight, Duncan?" Alistair asked.

"I mean he intends to stay with the Wardens indefinitely," Duncan replied. "He will be participating in the Joining ritual with his sister."

Alistair didn't know how he felt about that. He was glad that having her brother here would make Bena happy, but then again, that also meant that she really didn't need Alistair. He wondered how often she would want to talk to him if she could just talk to Bryon. Alistair let out a sigh at the thought.


	8. Chapter 7 Entering the Wilds

_**Author's Note: **_In this chapter, I take some time to introduce a few new characters, some that will receive further development later in the story and others that (just so you are forewarned) may not survive Ostagar. I have also taken a few liberties with the geography of the Wilds for plot purposes.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I really do appreciate your feedback.

* * *

Bryon had arranged everything. His men would follow the king's banner until Fergus was found, and he would follow Bena into the ranks of the Grey Wardens.

After Bryon arrived at the Wardens' camp, the twins spoke for hours about all that had happened to them in the week that they had spent apart. In horrifyingly vivid detail, Bena recounted most of the events she had experienced, but she remained vague in describing her own injuries. Bryon decided not to press the issue, hoping that she would be willing to talk about it with time. After she finished her account, Bryon still was uncertain how he felt about Duncan's methods. He knew a Blight was a serious matter and that Grey Wardens would be needed to end it, but he just didn't know if he could trust Duncan.

Her story did make one thing certain for him, though—he was going to kill Rendon Howe. That man deserved a traitor's death, and Bryon would gladly give it to him.

Once their stories had been shared, Bryon finally succumbed to sleep shortly before dawn. When he woke several hours later, he saw Bena already hard at work, preparing for whatever trials lay ahead. He wondered if she had gotten any rest at all.

From what he could tell, Bena had been understandably unsociable when she had arrived at the Wardens' camp the previous day. And apparently, at least one of the recruits had been less than welcoming to her. Bryon was glad to hear that she had put that one in his place, but, when the new morning began, the twins decided to join the other recruits for breakfast and take the opportunity to make better introductions. The losses Bryon had suffered recently did not deter his interest in becoming more familiar with one recruit in particular. He didn't spot her right off, though, so he and Bena moved toward the others.

There were two dwarves. The first that they met was a female dwarf with brown eyes and strawberry blonde hair. She introduced herself as Hildra Aeducan, and Bryon immediately recognized the name. Bryce Cousland had made sure that his children were well versed in the politics and customs of other cultures, so Bryon knew this young dwarven warrior was a member of the royal household. She seemed formidable, and not because of her heavy grey iron armor or her impressive shield. It was her standoffish demeanor that conveyed this attitude, despite the fact that she only came to Bryon's elbow when she stood. It seemed like she would cleave her ax into Bryon's chest if he said anything out of line or even if she was just in a bad mood.

It quickly became apparent that Hildra wasn't very interested in making conversation with her fellow recruits. When Bryon had tried to ask her how she had ended up among the Wardens, she had replied simply, "Long story."

The other dwarf, however, proved to be much more talkative. Bryon recognized him to be one of the Warden recruits he had seen upon his arrival at Ostagar. His name was Torval Brosca. In a crude yet surprisingly jovial way, the raven-haired rogue described his life as a casteless dwarf and as a crime lord's lackey. Becoming a Grey Warden held the possibility of a new life for himself and his family. Despite all the hardship he had been through, he seemed ready to take on the archdemon one-on-one if he could achieve that new life for his sister and mother. Bryon appreciated the dwarf's spirit, but still had some reservations about Torval, especially given how at ease he was in describing how he murdered the crime lord Beraht.

After speaking with Torval, the twins introduced themselves to the other human recruits. Ser Jory was a knight from Redcliffe, who had a wife at home waiting for him and a child on the way. He was here to do his part in defeating the darkspawn. Jory explained that leaving his family behind now meant that he would be helping to protect them in the long run. Bryon understood where the knight was coming from. Fergus had said something similar when he talked about leaving Oriana and Oren to head to Ostagar. Unfortunately, events had not turned out as Fergus would have hoped, and Bryon didn't even want to think about what it would be like to tell him that his wife and son were gone. Bryon didn't speak of this to Jory, but instead, shook the knight's hand and said that he was glad to have a fellow warrior on his side. At that, Bryon and Bena turned to the other human recruit.

When they approached Daveth sitting on a nearby log, the rogue tensed but tried to act naturally. Bena picked up on it.

"Don't worry. We're not here to kill you," she said. "We're just going to try introductions again—this time perhaps with a bit more civility."

"And why would I worry, love?" Daveth asked in a sly voice lined with hints of irritation. "Because you got your boy here with you?"

"Actually, she could kill you faster than I could," Bryon replied, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword. "My way is just more painful."

"So much for civility," Bena muttered, but then spoke up. "Enough already. I'm Bena, he's Bryon, and if we're all going to be working together, I would suggest that we all try to be more agreeable. You could start by giving us your name."

"Daveth," the rogue replied, moving his eyes downward to his food and then spitting a morsel towards Bena's feet. She didn't even flinch.

"Very well, Daveth. It's been a pleasure to meet you," she responded with a lack of sincerity. "Now that we're all acquainted with one another perhaps we can try fighting on the same side for a change instead of against each other. For the moment, though, we'll leave you to your breakfast. Excuse us."

Bena quickly turned and walked away, obviously not wanting to stay in the rogue's presence any longer than she had to. Before Bryon could follow her, he saw Daveth staring at her. The rogue then said, "Now there's an ass I'd like to get acquainted with."

Bryon hoisted Daveth up by his collar and then put a tight grip around the rogue's neck. "Say that about my sister again and I'll relieve you of your manhood."

"Sorry. I didn't think you'd take such offense," the rogue sputtered as he struggled against the gauntlet at his throat. "Besides, all I did was say something. I wasn't the one getting cozy with her last night."

"What are you talking about?" Bryon asked, loosening his grip.

"The pretty boy Warden over there," Daveth replied, tilting his head toward Alistair. "I saw him sitting with her by the fire last night, moving in close and putting his hands all over her."

Bryon didn't know what to believe. Looking at Alistair, who was currently eating with Duncan and the other Wardens, Bryon knew that his sister could have resisted any advances that that joking, bumbling young man might have tried to make—or at least she could have before Howe attacked their home. Now she seemed more vulnerable, so it was possible that the Warden did get away with something. This also seemed a possibility because Bryon had shed some of his naivety regarding the Wardens. They were no longer the honorable knights of legend he had once considered them to be. _Just look at their recruits, _he thought, regarding Daveth.

That brought another thought to Bryon's mind, though; Daveth seemed like the type who would lie his way out of anything. He could very easily be making this up about Alistair. Bryon resolved to keep an eye on both of them for the time being as he let go of Daveth and shoved the rogue back into his seat. Bena was determined to become a Warden, and Bryon was going to make sure she became one with as little suffering or injury as possible.

Once Bryon had caught up to his sister, she said, "It looked like you were being quite civil back there with your fingers around the man's throat."

"You threw a knife at his head when you met him, so are you really surprised by my reaction to him?"

"No, I suppose not."

"I want you to stay away from him," Bryon said as his face became completely serious. "And be careful around the other men in camp as well."

"Bryon, I don't need this sort of lecture. I can take care of myself—"

"I know how capable you are, Ben. But I also know how sheltered you have been. No man in Highever would have dared to try anything when it came to you because they would have faced Father's wrath, or Fergus', or mine. And your betrothal kept other would-be suitors away—"

"It was my life, Bryon," Bena replied, becoming angry. "You don't have to remind me about it. And you don't have to play the part of my protector. If that's the only reason you're here, then perhaps you should just go."

Bryon knew that keeping her safe was his main reason for joining the Wardens. He had always been protective of her, and perhaps he was being a bit more protective of her now, but he didn't think to an unreasonable degree. She was potentially the only family he had left, yet he knew that wasn't the reason she wanted to hear. Then, Bryon also remembered his reasons for being at Ostagar to begin with and could tell that was what she needed to hear. "I'm here to end a potential Blight. From what I'm told, I can do that better as a Grey Warden than as just another soldier."

Bena looked up at her brother with a piercing gaze, as if she were trying to discern from his features whether he was telling her the truth. She seemed satisfied with what she saw and said in a calmer tone, "We still have two more recruits to meet."

The next recruit that they came upon was a female Dalish elf with silver hair and green eyes. Her name was Ellana Mahariel, and her specialty was archery. She carried with her an intricately designed bow. Ellana permitted Bena to test the bow, and Bryon's sister was quite impressed with it. Although she wasn't as skilled with such a weapon as she was with her daggers, Bena had an appreciation for it, especially given that archery had been the favorite fighting technique of the twins' mother.

After examining the bow and handing it back to its owner, Bena commented, "I'm unfamiliar with this material. It seems too strong to be yew."

"'Tis ironbark," Ellana replied stoically. "It has no equal, but it tends to be quite difficult to acquire."

"It's quite remarkable. Sturdy yet so light."

The elf must have noticed how much Bena admired the bow, because she responded in the same passive voice she had been using for their entire conversation, "If I fall during the Joining, 'tis yours."

"You shouldn't be thinking like that right before we begin preparing for the ritual," Bena replied. "Besides, there must be someone else you would want the bow to go to."

"There is no one, not anymore. And you seem to respect its craftsmanship. I would prefer that someone have it who recognizes its worth not because its monetary value but because of its utility," Ellana said. "As for my way of thinking, 'tis never harmful to be prepared for every potential outcome."

The twins took their leave after that and went in search of the final recruit. _Amee, _his mind whispered as his thoughts drifted back to the young elf mage. He was eager to see her again. Something about her entranced him. Perhaps it was a spell she was using on him, but he just didn't care. Having the chance to be near her again seemed like the only positive that would come from being a Warden other than being able to help his sister.

He had told Bena only the basics about Amee when he had described the attack Howe's men had made against him. He had informed Bena that Amee had been helpful in keeping both himself and Astor alive but that her presence there was not common knowledge given how the Chantry might react to it. Bena had agreed with Bryon's actions regarding Amee and promised to keep the information to herself as well.

What Bryon had left out of his story were his feelings for Amee. After what his sister had been through, now didn't seem like the appropriate time to be telling Bena about his interest in someone.

"I don't see her," Bena said. "It's odd. I thought all of the recruits were supposed to keep close to camp this morning."

Bryon thought about where Amee could be and then remembered the first time he had seen her. He looked up and saw a blue robe among the green leaves of a nearby tree. "There," he said, pointing out the elf's location to his sister.

"Hello," Bena said with her face tilted upward as they reached the base of the tree.

"Hello," Amee replied, before gracefully jumping to the ground.

"I'm Bena Cousland," she said extending her hand.

Amee took the offered hand and shook it, replying, "I'm Amelyn Surana—Amee, if you'd like."

"I understand I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my brother's life and Astor's." Amee's face looked slightly concerned by this, as if she were nervous about the information spreading. Bena noticed the change in Amee's appearance and added, "I assure you that no one outside the three of us need know anything about it, but I would have you know that I am grateful all the same."

"Well, there's no need for that," Amee replied as her expression began to lighten. "We were all just helping one another. Speaking of which, I didn't want to disturb you yesterday or seem like I was being rude in offering, but…I am a good healer. I might be able to help with your injuries if you'd let me."

Bena paused for a moment, but then nodded. Amee put a hand up to Bena's bruised cheek and a blue glow began to emanate from it. Slowly, Bryon began to see the bruises fading from her face and elsewhere. Bena smiled when Amee had finished, and Bryon saw a glimpse of his sister's former self emerge in her features. It receded quickly, though, when Duncan told them to gather so that he could inform them of their mission. Bena thanked Amee before turning toward where Duncan stood, once again wearing her mask of seriousness.

The three of them gathered around the campfire with the other recruits. Duncan stood before them with Alistair on his left side and another Warden on his right. This other Warden had long brown hair, tied back in a braid, and his frame was smaller and thinner than Bryon's. From his size and armor, Bryon assumed that the man fought in a rogue's style.

"Since you're all here, we can begin," Duncan said. "You eight will be heading into the Kocari Wilds with Alistair and Nolan to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain eight vials of darkspawn blood—one for each recruit."

That didn't exactly sound like a good thing to Bryon, but before he could question Duncan about it, Bena asked, "And what's the second task?"

"There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Your second task is to retrieve these scrolls if you can."

"What's in these scrolls?" Bryon asked.

"The scrolls contain treaties promising support—treaties that may prove valuable in the days to come," Duncan responded. "Now the outpost is nearly due south of here, but between Ostagar and the outpost is a large area of practically impassable swampland. There are, however, two routes that go around this swamp that would lead you to the outpost. You will be divided into two groups, and each group shall approach the outpost from a different direction. This will help to ensure that at least one group reaches the outpost and secures the treaties.

"With regard to your groups, Alistair will be leading Daveth, Ellana, Hildra, and Bena along the eastern route, while Nolan will be taking Bryon, Jory, Amee, and Torval along the western route. Unless there appears to be some sort of pressing danger, the first group to reach the outpost should wait one day for the second to arrive. If the second group does not arrive within that amount of time or if the first group is forced to leave the outpost early, the first group should leave a sign for the second to indicate that they have obtained the treaties and have started on their way back to Ostagar.

"Are there any questions?" Duncan asked. _Yes,_ Bryon thought, _I have a question—who came up with these group assignments?_ Although he didn't mind thought of being in Amee's group, he had volunteered to become a Warden to watch over his sister, and it didn't seem like Duncan was keeping to that arrangement. He was going to have to have a chat with Duncan about this.

Once Duncan had dismissed the recruits so that they could prepare to leave, Bryon walked up to the senior Warden. "What in the Maker's name was that group assignment all about, Duncan? I thought we had an understanding."

"We had an understanding that you would be able to join your sister as a Grey Warden recruit, but that doesn't mean you will always be able to fight alongside her in the future. The sooner you realize and adapt to that truth, the better for the both of you. Besides, it's not as if she is being sent into the Wilds alone. She will have the other recruits and Alistair with her."

"Right, because the thought of Daveth and Alistair with my sister is really quite comforting," Bryon replied sarcastically.

"I gave you my assurances about Alistair, Bryon, and given how strong Bena is, I doubt Daveth would try anything." Duncan saw that Bryon was ready to protest, so the Warden continued, "And, no matter what further arguments you may make, know this: I will not change the group assignments. Both groups have a balanced mix of fighters, and I trust that both will complete their tasks."

"Fine," Bryon finally conceded. He wasn't going to win the debate with Duncan. He realized that the discussion only had two potential outcomes—Bryon accepting Duncan's groupings or Duncan no longer allowing Bryon to be a recruit. Bryon knew he couldn't let the latter happen, so he chose the former. He turned away from Duncan and found Alistair in his line of sight, standing alone and getting his pack together. If Duncan wasn't going to listen to him, then at least he was going to make a few things clear for the junior Warden.

"Alistair," Bryon said calmly as he approached the young Warden, who then turned towards him. When Bryon was within a few feet of him, he stopped and stood at his full height, causing Alistair to react in kind and eye the noble inquisitively. But Bryon merely extended his hand, and said, "I was a bit impulsive when I spoke to you yesterday evening. I wanted to apologize for that."

Alistair looked taken aback, but still reached out his arm to shake Bryon's. Bryon made sure, though, to grab the Warden by the hand directly, rather than the forearm. Alistair seemed to pay no heed to that and said, "There's no need for any apology. I probably would have reacted in the same way had I been in your shoes."

"Good. I'm glad that's straightened out," Bryon said, not releasing Alistair's hand. "One other thing—you'll be leading my sister out into the Wilds, and I just want to make sure that you understand something."

"Yes?"

"If anything happens to her—and I mean anything—from a scrape of her knee to her death by darkspawn to some rotten, no-good scoundrel trying to make inappropriate advances on her," Bryon said, tightening his grip on the Warden's hand and letting a darker tone creep into his voice, "I'm holding you personally responsible. And know that, if something _does_ befall her, there would be no place in all of Thedas so well hidden as to keep from my wrath."

"Right. Ow. Got it," Alistair replied.

"Something wrong, gentlemen?" a voice piped in from behind them, and Bryon knew it was his sister. He released Alistair's hand and turned to her with a smile on his face.

"Not at all, Ben," Bryon replied, moving toward his sister. "I was just wishing Alistair good luck in leading your group." He then planted a kiss upon her forehead. "And now I suppose I should be making sure the dogs are taken care of while we're gone and then getting to my group." He moved around her so that Alistair could see his face, but Bena could not. Bryon glowered at the Warden one last time and then headed toward his own group.

* * *

It seemed as if Bryon had been upset for the entire time that their group had spent in the Wilds. Not that Amee could imagine herself being happy if she had just found out her entire family had been murdered—if she could remember her family, that is. And it wasn't as if the Wilds really gave a person anything to happy about—but still, his attitude was starting to unnerve her.

He had taken up guard at the rear of the group, so Amee paused and waited for him to catch up.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, matching his pace when he reached her.

"Not particularly," he replied, but Amee was not deterred.

"What Howe did to your family was horrendous. I'm sorry that you had to go through that loss, but you shouldn't let it eat you up inside."

"It's not just that. With that, I at least know what I have to do—track down my family's murderer and kill him. But now there's my sister and her decision to be a Grey Warden. And with that, there's Duncan, telling me I'm not allowed to stay with my only surviving family member, and I'm just left to hope that she makes it through the Wilds in one piece."

"I can understand that you're worried about her, but Alistair's with her."

"And what if he gets it in his head to try something? Is he really so trustworthy?"

That caught Amee off guard. "Wait. Alistair? You think Alistair's going to try something on her?" With that thought, Amee couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst out in laughter.

"What?" Bryon asked with a confused look on his face.

"Awkward Alistair? You think awkward Alistair is going to try to seduce your sister?"

"What? I saw him leaving her tent last night, and Daveth told me this morning that he saw Alistair try to make a move on her."

"First," Amee said, regaining some of her composure, "never believe Daveth, and especially don't believe what he says about someone he doesn't like. Daveth's been trying to make Alistair's life miserable ever since Alistair caught him stealing and made him return the stolen goods.

"Second, I don't think Alistair would ever have the nerve to even try to seduce a woman. With the way he acts, he's probably still a virgin."

"But he must be at least twenty-five," Bryon said in disbelief.

"I'd say twenty-six or twenty-seven," Amee replied. "But he's spent most of his life being raised as a templar by the Chantry, and they don't exactly encourage their templars to engage in certain extracurricular activities. With the way I've heard the other Wardens tease him, I'd have to guess that he hasn't had any of those types of experiences since becoming a Warden either."

Amee looked ahead and saw a sharp drop in their path. Nolan and Jory made the several-foot jump down to the path below rather easily. It appeared that Torval considered jumping it as well, but opted to climb down instead, stumbling clumsily on his descent.

When the final two members of the group reached the impediment, Bryon asked, "Have you ever engaged in that sort of extracurricular activity?"

When she didn't give him a ready response, Bryon proceeded to jump down without losing his footing. Amee, on the other hand, took her time to look at the drop and determine where it would be best to climb down it. Before she could move to what appeared to be the best spot, two strong hands grabbed her by the waist and lowered her down to the path below. And, yet again, she found herself in Bryon's arms unbidden—but she couldn't necessarily say they were unwelcome.

"Well?" he asked, waiting for a response to his question.

"Would it surprise you if I said yes?" Amee asked defiantly, determined not to melt so easily into his deep green eyes.

"No," he said with a smile. "It would just surprise me to learn that there's a man out there who would be dumb enough to let you go and then not come running after you."

At that, she might have melted but for the noises that they heard coming from their other party members. They sounded concerned.

Bryon released her and said, "Stay behind me."

When they reached the others, a small group of darkspawn was pointed out on the path before them. Nolan gave instructions on how the attack would proceed. Bryon and Jory were told to take on the two hurlocks in the center of the group, Nolan and Torval would be picking off the four surrounding genlocks, and Amee was to provide support in the form of ranged attacks and healing spells.

Bryon turned to her with concern in his eyes as he made ready his sword and shield. "Keep under cover. Don't let them near you. If they get close yell for help or run, but don't let them corner you."

She didn't remember becoming so nervous, but now, waiting for the fight to begin, Amee could feel herself trembling. She'd never been in a battle like this. She'd fought in the Fade before, but that wasn't like this; that didn't feel real, and this felt all too real. She could feel a bead of sweat dropping down her forehead and her heart pounding in her chest. She heard every clink of metal made by the arms and armor of the men around her. She thought she was going mad the way time itself seemed to slow down, but then suddenly it was speeding up and wouldn't stop.

The men moved and carried out their orders with ruthless efficiency, taking down the darkspawn quickly. Amee had stayed where they had left her, focusing on offering help where she could.

Once the darkspawn were slain, Amee let out the breath that she had apparently been holding and felt relieved. She hoped all their battles would go so smoothly—at least until she saw Bryon's face. There was still concern in it.

"Is that all of them?" he asked.

"I believe—no," Nolan answered after a moment's hesitation. "There are a few more in that direction," he said pointing to the path ahead, "but we can deal with—no."

Amee began to hate it when the Warden used that word. Torval then asked, "What? What is it?"

"There are more approaching from that direction as well," he said pointing behind them now. "Perhaps they managed to pick up our trail. We can handle the group in front of us. It's small enough that it shouldn't be a problem, but the group behind us seems larger. If fighting the first group slows us down, the second might be able to overrun us."

"If we can't fight them," Bryon spoke up, "then maybe we should try another route."

"We shouldn't deviate from our planned course," Nolan replied.

"But we could head into the swamp here," Bryon continued. "If you don't sense any darkspawn in that direction, then we could go in there, leaving fewer tracks behind us in the swamp water and putting more ground between us and the darkspawn."

"No," Nolan said once more, and Amee cringed at its use. She had a bad feeling about what lay ahead. "We shall stay on the current path and take out the darkspawn ahead of us. If we move quickly, we can stay in front of the other group."

Bryon didn't put up any further argument. It would have just cost them more time, and everyone could tell that Nolan had already made up his mind. Amee once again went up to Bryon to be by his side as they continued onward. Torval took up a spot at his other side.

"If it means anythin' to ya, kid," the dwarf began, "I'm with ya."

"Thanks," Bryon replied.

"Me too," Amee added.

He turned to look at her, and she still saw concern there. She had no doubt that worry was spread wide across her own face, but seeing it on his continued to unsettle her. He looked intently in her eyes and said, "Whatever happens, stay close to me. I'll get us through this."

And for some reason, despite knowing what lay ahead, Amee couldn't help but believe him.


	9. Chapter 8 The First Task

_There's too much blood_—that seemed to be the only thought Amee could focus on in the fog that was now clouding her mind. The black blood stung her skin, and the red blood she just didn't want to look at.

Noises reached her ears—metal clanging, creatures growling—but none of it held any meaning. For some reason, though, she was aware of the fact that her hands were moist. She turned them over to look at her palms. There was the red blood, and with it, the feeling that she had failed at something. Her vision then cleared enough so that she could look beyond her hands.

She was kneeling over a body that had been very much alive only a few minutes ago. Now it was very much the opposite. Seeing the gaping wound across Nolan's chest—the source of all the red blood now surrounding Amee—it forced her mind back into reality, and she suddenly remembered how she had gotten there.

Nolan had been right in his prediction. Because they couldn't take down the first band of darkspawn quickly enough, the second had caught up with them. This new wave had hit just as they were finishing off a hurlock alpha and the last of the genlocks in the first group. Nolan and the recruits had been doing well up until that point, but then their luck swiftly began to change.

Amee had been keeping herself focused on her companions' health, helping them to recover from any injuries they sustained. With the arrival of additional darkspawn, though, her usual techniques for laying low weren't proving to be enough, and she had to spend more of her time dodging attacks than healing.

But Bryon had been keeping an eye on her. At least twice, his shield had been the only thing standing between her and an arrow through her heart. He seemed to be everywhere—guarding Jory's back as the knight swung his blade into a line of genlocks, slaying a nasty hurlock that refused to fall despite repeated strikes from Torval's daggers, and offering assistance to Nolan even though the Warden was the reason they were in this mess to begin with. If Nolan had considered Bryon's suggestion to leave their current path and try venturing into the swamp, then they might have been able to avoid these darkspawn.

But Bryon wasn't thinking about that as he fought. His sole purpose appeared to be keeping everyone else alive. He wanted to keep his promise to get them all through this.

Then it happened. A large darkspawn with magic abilities had entered the fray as Bryon was defending Amee.

"An emissary!" Nolan had shouted. "Be on your guard!"

The Warden then made his way to this new opponent, launching a series of deft blows and somehow dodging its fireballs. Just as he had taken a final stab to fell the creature, a genlock archer took advantage of Nolan's stationary position and fired an arrow into his chest.

Bryon had seen Nolan's injury and noticed the archer taking aim once more. He grabbed Amee's arm and, keeping her safely behind himself and his shield, led them to Nolan. They had made it there quickly, just as the second arrow was on its way to its intended destination. Instead, it connected with Bryon's shield. He told Amee to stay there and help Nolan, while he charged at the genlock and two other darkspawn that had suddenly appeared.

Amee then went to work on Nolan. She managed to remove the arrow without inflicting too much additional damage, but then saw a green liquid around the wound. She put her hand above the injury to begin the healing process and felt that there was poison coursing through his veins. She knew that it would be easier to find a cure for the poison after the main injury was healed, so she focused on that. But it soon became apparent that she was paying too much attention to her healing and not enough to her surroundings.

Amee could sense that the poison was making Nolan disoriented, but the Warden still was coherent enough to see a hurlock coming up behind the mage. Nolan leapt up at the sight of the creature, but not with the grace and swiftness he usually possessed. His steps and parries were clumsy, and, within only a few moments, the darkspawn gained the upper hand. It drove its greatsword into his abdomen all the way up to the hilt.

With the last ounces of strength and awareness in his body, Nolan lifted the dagger in his hand and jammed it into the creature's throat. The hurlock stumbled backwards in response, pulling its greatsword out of Nolan as he went. It then reached for the dagger lodged in its neck and ripped it out, spraying its blood across Nolan, Amee, and the rest of the area, before finally giving in to death.

It had all happened so quickly, Amee barely had time to process it. Once the hurlock fell, though, she scrambled over to Nolan. She could feel that he was still alive, but he was rapidly fading. She set her mind to work, ignoring the sting of the darkspawn blood on her cheek and concentrating on healing his injuries. She started with what she sensed was the most severe part of the wound and continued on from there. Yet, every time she was able to come close to restoring one of his organs, another would fail. Nolan was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. Despite her tireless efforts, she soon felt it as his life completely slipped away. And then her world went blank.

* * *

When Bryon had slain the last of his opponents, he looked around to assess the field and was glad to see that there appeared to be no more darkspawn in the area. He spied Torval helping Jory bandage an injury to his shoulder and Amee seemed to be in the same spot he had left her in with Nolan.

But something looked wrong—Amee was just sitting there, staring at her hands. Bryon rushed over to her and was sickened by what he saw.

Nolan lay completely motionless with a wide, gory gash through his stomach. Amee's blue robes were covered in large, purple stains where the Warden's blood had soaked in, and her hands were coated with the dark red liquid.

Bryon knelt down beside them and carefully shut Nolan's eyelids with one hand, concealing the Warden's vacant, yet haunting gaze. With his other hand, Bryon grasped Amee's elbow and led her away from the carnage.

Her voice was silent and her expression blank, as he brought her to a nearby stream and washed the blood off her hands. "I'm sorry you had to see that," Bryon said, bringing an end to the quiet. "I know it must have been terrible, but we can't dwell on it right now." He brought his hand to her cheek and turned her head to face him. Bryon knew Amee's abilities would be needed if they wanted to survive in the Wilds, and he wanted her to realize this too. "We need to stay focused if we're going to make it out of here."

He wet his handkerchief and began to wipe the blood away from her face before continuing, "I need your help with this, Amee. We all do. Jory's injured and I need you to—"

She pulled away from him abruptly and said, "No."

"What?"

"I'm not healing anyone again. I don't want to feel _that _again."

"What do you mean, Amee?"

"I know people die—I've seen it before. It's just—I've never _felt_ it before. I've never had someone die on me when I've tried to heal them. I've always saved them. I'm not going to feel that again."

"Amee, Jory isn't dying. It's just a wound to his shoulder—"

"No!" Amee yelled. "You can't make me!"

Bryon looked over to Torval and Jory and asked, "How bad is it?"

"He'll live," Torval replied. "The poultice I put on the cut should help heal it and prevent it from gettin' any worse."

"I'll be fine," Jory said, "as soon as we're all out of these Maker-forsaken woods!"

"We're not going back to Ostagar just yet," Bryon said.

"What?" Jory asked, flabbergasted. "Why not? We have our four vials of darkspawn blood. We can just follow the path right back to camp. Let the other group worry about getting those scrolls."

"The darkspawn have been all over this path," Bryon replied authoritatively. "And none of us can sense them if they start surrounding us. From what Nolan said, though, it sounded like he didn't sense them in the direction of the swamp. If we cut across it heading southeast, we can try to catch up to the others and then make our way back to Ostagar."

"Why? Just so we can travel with a Warden? Being a Warden didn't seem to do Nolan much good."

"No, it didn't. And neither did staying on this path. With the way the darkspawn have been attacking us, I think it's safe to assume that we're going to be facing more of them on our way back to Ostagar. The truth is we stand a better chance of beating them if there are nine of us instead of just four. So I'm going into the swamp. You can either follow or stay."

Torval spoke up first. "Like I said earlier, I'm with ya, kid."

Bryon then looked to Amee and asked her, "Will you be alright to continue onward into the swamp?"

"Of course," she said, sounding stubborn and annoyed. "I'm fine. I'm just not healing any of you, but that doesn't stop me from shooting arcane bolts." She added quietly, "I can do that without feeling anything."

They all looked at Jory, who gave in under their stares. "Fine!" he said. "I'll go with you all."

"Good," Bryon replied. "Everyone can take a moment to clean up here, and then we'll move out."

"I'm ready to go now," Amee replied. There was still blood on her face, both human and darkspawn.

"If she's ready to go, I am too," Jory said. "The sooner we get across the swamp and then out of the Wilds, the better."

Bryon was concerned about Amee, but now that she had regained her senses she was keeping her distance from everyone. When Bryon tried to move closer to her, she backed away from him and headed for the swamp.

"Guess we're leavin'," Torval said.

"I guess we are," Bryon replied before catching up with Amee. He hoped for her sake that they would be able to leave this place soon. He also hoped that his sister had been sent down a safer path.

_

* * *

Don't get too attached—how difficult could that be?_ Alistair thought as he considered the last piece of advice that Duncan had given him before he and his recruits had headed into the Wilds.

He didn't even know what had brought on Duncan's comment. Sure, he had spent more time talking to a recruit last night than he had with any other individual recruit before that. And true, he couldn't help but feel glad when he saw how well Amee had healed that recruit's injuries. And yes, he did have a sudden, inexplicable urge to punch someone every time he thought about those injuries being inflicted on that recruit. But none of that seemed to indicate to Alistair that he was becoming too attached. He regarded Bena as a resourceful and talented recruit and nothing more.

And almost immediately upon entering the Wilds, she was proving to be just that. She seemed to pick up on Alistair's dislike of map reading—and perhaps, leading in general—and took charge of the group at the first fork in their path. It looked all too easy for her. She not only managed to keep them to their course, but also she found traces of the Chasind and other travelers that would have gone unnoticed by most.

At the first locked chest they encountered, they finally found out why Duncan would have considered Daveth useful. He had the lock open in a matter of seconds.

"Impressive," Ellana commented.

"What can I say? I'm good with chests," Daveth replied suggestively. "I know how to play with them, and caress them, and work them just right to give them the attention they deserve."

Bena rolled her eyes at the less-than-subtle innuendo and said, "That's enough talking, Daveth. We need to keep moving."

"Come on now, love, I'm sure your own chest would be well taken care of in this," Daveth said. Everyone turned to see him holding up a Chasind feminine robe. There was hardly anything to the outfit. There were no coverings for a wearer's legs or arms, and nearly nothing else for any other part of a woman's anatomy for that matter. Two strips of fabric ran down its front to provide cover for the centers of a woman's breasts, and a third, slightly wider strip continued past the waist to conceal her sex.

Bena reacted to the comment much better than Alistair did. She managed to keep her composure and say, "I can guarantee to you, Daveth, that you would never see me wearing such a flimsy piece of fabric. There's probably not even enough material there to bandage a blister on one's little toe."

Alistair, on the other hand, couldn't help but be distracted by Daveth's comment for the rest of the afternoon. The thought of her wearing that robe lingered in his mind, despite protests about ungentlemanly conduct emerging from the templar inside of him. Her leather armor was already form-fitting, hugging her curves tightly and making it easy to imagine her in something less.

_Okay, so she's an _attractive, _resourceful, and talented recruit, _he finally admitted to himself, hoping it would help him to focus. It didn't, but thankfully he sensed a group of darkspawn ahead that managed to keep his attention.

They took cover behind a crumbling wall, and Alistair explained his plan. "I'll charge up the center with Hildra, and the rest of you follow behind and provide support where you can," he said, as he began moving toward the darkspawn's location.

"Wait," Bena said, stepping in front of him. "I count at least five traps between us and them—"

"Six," Daveth spoke up.

"Alright, six," Bena said. "If you and Hildra go running in there, you're bound to step in one."

"What do you suggest?" Alistair asked.

"Let Daveth and I go first. We can sneak up there and disable the traps. Then you and Hildra would have a clear path, and Daveth and I would follow closely behind you to back both of you up. Ellana can take aim on the darkspawn from back here with her longbow."

Alistair readily agreed to her plan. It was familiar to him to be receiving and following orders, and it felt more comfortable to him than trying to give them.

When the battle was underway, he was impressed with the way she fought. He knew she had speed and good aim, but apparently she had been trained for actual combat as well. She also seemed to know how to fight alongside a soldier. She danced around his bulk, dealing out lethal strikes while letting him handle the heavier hits.

By the time night fell, they had their four vials of darkspawn blood and were well on their way to the former Warden outpost. They made camp in a defensible spot atop a hill, and Alistair volunteered to take the first watch.

Bena laid out her bedroll not far from where he sat. She seemed tired, although it appeared as if she were trying to conceal that fact. Alistair wondered how much she had slept in the past few days and how often she had nightmares like the one she'd had the previous night.

Alistair soon found out that they were a somewhat common occurrence. She had been the last recruit to fall asleep, and her steady breathing was quickly riddled with sharp intakes. Alistair knew the signs of nightmares well. He had been on watch before with his fellow Wardens and had seen as they struggled with visions of darkspawn. Duncan had always said to be careful around them and to try not to wake them. In that state, Wardens were prone to attack anyone who disturbed them.

But he couldn't bear watching her struggle as she was now. The muscles in her face were tense, and she was beginning to jerk and kick as if fighting with someone. He remembered too that she had screamed quite loudly the last time she was having one of these nightmares. Not wanting to draw that kind of attention to their party—and not wanting to see her upset any longer—Alistair decided to try to wake her. When calling out her name several times failed to work, he tentatively reached out an ungloved hand to shake her.

* * *

She was back in the castle again. There was the same blood-red light pouring in through the windows as she had seen in her dreams the night of the attack. This time, however, instead of empty halls and passageways, the corridors were filled the bodies of friends and loved ones. When she came upon the lifeless forms of her parents, it was too overwhelming. She ran.

Before she knew it, she had made it up to her room. There, she stopped running and tried to focus. She knew this was a nightmare, but still she couldn't convince her mind to wake from it. Suddenly, two hands grabbed her from behind, threw her onto the bed, and then flipped her onto her back. Then he was on top of her—the same nameless man with his same dirty grin. With one hand on her throat, he pinned her, and his other hand went groping downward along her body.

Bena was struggling against him. She wasn't just going to let him win. This was her dream and that had to give her some sort of power, although she couldn't seem to figure out how to use it. Then a voice in the back of her said, _Under the pillow._

She reached and found her dagger. Without hesitation, she struck out against her attacker and was suddenly awoken by someone saying, "Ow!"

She looked around to see the other recruits asleep and Alistair kneeling nearby her clutching his hand.

"Don't kill me, okay?" he said. "I didn't mean you any harm."

Bena didn't understand what he had meant until she saw the dagger in her hand. There was blood along its tip.

"Maker, Alistair, did I hurt you?" she asked, conveying her worry in her tone.

"I'm fine," Alistair replied, holding up his hand to her, but not showing her his palm. "I still have all my fingers. It just stings a bit, but it'll help me to remember not to try to wake someone from a nightmare."

"I'm sorry, Alistair. Here, let me see it," Bena said, as she moved to sit beside him, taking his hand and examining his palm before he could protest. "It's a clean cut, but still, I'm sorry. When I took Duncan's advice to start sleeping with a dagger under my pillow, I didn't think I'd be using it to hurt someone I consider a friend."

"I…um…I…" _He's stammering,_ she thought. She looked up at him, trying to read in his face what was making him flustered, but he kept his gaze away from her and down on his hand. _Has he not had someone call him a friend before?—That can't be possible. He's too nice not have friends.—Is he blushing?_

"Duncan told you to sleep with a dagger under your pillow?" he finally managed to blurt out.

"Yes," she replied, keeping hold of his hand with one of hers and using the other to pull her pack closer. "He thought it might help me sleep better," she said as she pulled a poultice out of her bag.

"You don't have to that," he said as he began to pull away his hand, but she wouldn't let him go.

"It's no trouble, Alistair. Besides, I used to bandage up my brothers' wounds whenever we got into bad scrapes, so I know what I'm doing."

"So you and your brothers were little menaces?" he asked teasingly.

She couldn't help but smile at him, when only a few days ago she thought she might never smile again. He had offered her a lighthearted kindness that wasn't shallow, but rather was sincere in the most endearing way. Bena found herself letting her guard down a bit when around him. Still smiling, she responded, "Yes, we were—Bryon and I especially. We always used to find our way into the worst possible messes—playing games during serious events, running races through the castle. One time we even tried jumping off the high beams in the great hall. Father was…"

Suddenly, her smile faded at that word. She had tried not to think about her losses. It didn't do her any good to dwell on them out here in the wilderness when their lives were constantly at risk. But then again, the littlest thing seemed to trigger a memory, reminding her of something or someone from her past. She didn't see a way of avoiding it.

And yet, there was his warm voice again. "I take it your father was angry about that."

"He was," she replied in tone that lacked the fleeting enjoyment she had allowed herself to feel a moment ago.

Alistair seemed to pick up on this and asked sheepishly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she replied flatly. "I don't want to keep going over it, thinking of how it might have turned out differently if only I had done something more."

"You can't think it was your fault. That man Howe was the one who attacked your family without cause. He—"

She pressed her fingers to his lips to stop him from continuing. She didn't want to hear that it wasn't her fault—not when she felt that her family might still be alive if not for her failures. She didn't act on her instinct about Howe. She didn't keep a closer watch over everyone once her brothers and their army had gone. She didn't move faster, fight better, or try harder. She had just let Howe's men walk into her home, murder her loved ones, and nearly rape her. She wasn't even capable enough to defend herself. If Lux hadn't stopped that man—_that_ was something she didn't want to think about.

"Please," she said. "I don't want to talk about it." She suddenly became aware of the feel of his lips underneath her bare fingers. They were warm and soft under her touch and were bordered by rough stubble. After realizing how she was lingering there, she pulled her hand away and went back to work on Alistair's wound, hoping that the firelight would be enough to conceal her own blush.

He must have noticed how awkward the silence was between them, because he soon tried to begin the conversation again, seeming to pursue the first topic that he stumbled upon.

"That's…um…a unique necklace," he said, referring to the chain she had about her neck. It was a simple silver chain with a man's ring hanging at its center. The ring consisted of several bands of silver and gold, shaped into vines and intricately intertwined with one another. Atop it lay a single round emerald.

"It belonged to King Calenhad once," she replied, taking the necklace off and handing it to Alistair so he could have a closer look. "He gave to Elethea Cousland when peace was declared between Ferelden and Highever. It's been in my family ever since then."

"It's rather remarkable," he said after examining the ring and handing it back to her.

"I always used to think so. I think that's why my father gave it to me," she said, trying not to dwell on the fact that her father was gone as she looked at the family keepsake.

"That and it matches your eyes," Alistair said, so suddenly and with such sweetness that he himself seemed surprised by his words as her eyes shot back up to his. He tripped over his tongue for a moment before adding jokingly, "What I meant was color coordination is quite important. No matter what one's circumstances might be, one should always try to be fashionable."

If he was going to start teasing her, then she was determined to tease him right back. "Really?" she asked, putting back on her necklace and then casting a scrutinizing eye over his own appearance. "And what does grey iron splintmail say about one's sense of style?"

"This is a _matching set_ of grey iron splintmail armor, I'll have you know. The set came with boots _and_ gauntlets—which apparently I should wear more often," he said, rubbing his now bandaged hand.

"I already apologized for that, Alistair. You should just be more—"

A piercing howl of a wolf cut Bena's comment short. She grabbed her daggers in response, and then both she and Alistair looked in the direction the sound had come from.

"It's alright," he said. "It sounded pretty far off, and there are other creatures down there to keep any wolf's attention." He must have meant it to be comforting, but Bena was still unsettled. Something about the noise gave her an uneasy feeling. She stood and listened for any further sound the night had to offer.

She thought she actually did hear something, but it was too indistinct. Alistair got up and stood beside her, asking, "What is it?"

"I don't know, it's just—" Several more howls were released from seemingly angry animals. This was followed by a battle cry Bena knew all too well.

"Bryon!" she said before leaping down the hill and bounding off toward the swamp, not waiting for Alistair or her other companions to follow.

* * *

_**A/N: **As always, thanks for reading!_


	10. Chapter 9 The Second Task

_**Author's Note: **_I apologize for the delay in posting. Apparently a full-time job isn't very conducive to making frequent updates to this story. Despite my delay, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks for reviewing and for adding this to your favorites and/or alerts! It really keeps me motivated. And thanks for reading!

* * *

Alistair didn't know how Bena had gotten so far ahead of him, but somehow she was already out of sight. He did take a moment to shout at the others to wake them up and then grabbed his sword and shield, but he hadn't thought those actions would put so much distance between them. Once he left the camp, though, he had only the sounds of howls and battle cries to guide him to her.

When Alistair finally found Bena, she was standing back-to-back with her brother. They were on the far side of a clearing illuminated by moonlight. Some distance away from those two, Amee, Torval, and Jory were positioned beside one another facing off against a half-dozen wolves. Looking back to the twins, Alistair saw that the pair had already taken down a number of the raging animals on their own, but five were now encircling them—stalking, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

There were two sudden movements from the inside of this circle to its rim. First a shield bash—_only four left—_followed by a sweep of two daggers—_three—_then the twins were back to the center, guarding each other's vulnerable spots.

Two of the wolves then jumped at Bena. She evaded their snarling teeth and struck them so that both were stunned. Bryon then spun around, stabbed one with his sword—_two—_and crushed the skull of the other with his shield—_one_.

The final wolf had moved behind them and lunged toward their exposed backs. But the twins were too swift for the beast. They turned while the wolf was in midair; its throat landed upon Bena's dagger, its belly upon Bryon's sword.

By the time Alistair reached any of them, it was over. Torval was finishing off the last of the other wolves, and it appeared that the Warden's help was not needed there. Ellana, Hildra, and Daveth arrived just in time to see the dwarf clean the wolf's blood off his blade, but they were also too late to partake in the fighting. Alistair turned back to the twins when he heard Bena begin to speak.

"And this is why you never let yourself get separated from the main group," she scolded, tracing a small, fresh scratch on her brother's cheek with her thumb.

"Hey!" he replied as he pulled her hand away suddenly, as if her touch had stung. "Weren't you the one who just ran into the middle of a fight half-crazed and _alone?_" His tone of reprimand matched hers. Alistair was tempted to break them apart before their dispute escalated but stopped when he noticed a faint smile appear on Bena's lips.

"You're welcome," she said.

"I didn't say thank you," Bryon replied, not returning the smile, but there seemed to be far less disapproval in his voice. "And I meant what I said about 'half-crazed.' Your form was horribly sloppy."

"It seemed effective enough," Bena retorted, gesturing to the slain wolves around them with her free hand.

At that, the side of Bryon's mouth quirked upward, and he slightly shook his head. In a much softer tone, he said, "I missed you, Ben."

She squeezed his hand in hers. "I missed you, too, Bryon."

Despite their surroundings, Alistair was moved by the closeness that these twins shared—a bond between siblings that he had never known. However, Bena soon seemed to remember where they were and what was going on. Her face became more serious, and she asked the question that had been plaguing Alistair ever since he had arrived at the clearing. "But Bryon, what are you doing here?" She looked to her brother's companions and then back to Bryon. "Where's Nolan?"

Bryon released his sister's hand and said, "The path we started out on was apparently a primary route for darkspawn travel. We were attacked several times, and Nolan wouldn't deviate from our designated course. He fell in one of the battles, and afterward, I led the rest of us here."

"He fell?" Alistair asked, unable to believe the news.

"Yes, he fell," Bryon repeated. "We tried to prevent it, but there was nothing that could be done. He couldn't see beyond his instructions and couldn't consider better alternatives." Anger suddenly entered Bryon's tone. "In fact, what was someone like that—someone with no leadership capabilities whatsoever—doing taking a party into hostile territory? Do you Wardens take some sick pleasure in sending people off to their deaths?"

Alistair didn't appreciate the accusation. On top of that, Nolan had been his friend. The two had participated in the same Joining and had bonded during their first months as Grey Wardens. Defensively, Alistair said, "We most certainly do not—"

"Then why did Duncan put him in charge? Why wasn't someone like Duncan leading us out here?"

"Because this is as much a trial for junior Grey Wardens as it is for the recruits!" Alistair spat out before realizing he was offering them more details about the Wardens than he should.

"What do you mean?"

"Just forget it," Alistair replied. "Let's all just go back to our camp. We'll go after the treaties in the morning and then leave this place."

"No," Bryon stated plainly. "You either explain yourself, or I take everyone right now, lead them out of this hell hole, and your bloody treaties be damned!"

No one else spoke. They were all just staring at Alistair, waiting for some sort of answer. _You're the one who let yourself get into this mess, so you're the one who'll have to find a way out of it._

"Fine," Alistair grumbled. "There's more to being a Warden than just surviving the Joining. There are responsibilities you have to be able to handle, and the way junior Wardens show they can handle those responsibilities is by bringing other recruits through the Joining."

Alistair was purposefully vague on those _responsibilities._ He wanted them to think he just meant being able to lead people into darkspawn-infested regions, but he knew it was more than that. _But how do you tell people this is all just to see if I have the stomach to give a good person a death sentence?_

Alistair knew that was the real purpose of this assignment—to see if he had what it took to force someone into either an immediate death or an eventual, painful one all for the greater good. That was what it meant to be a Warden—to make the few bear the burdens so that the many could survive.

"That's it? That's all you have to tell us?" Bryon asked skeptically.

"Yes," Alistair replied, careful to say as few words as possible this time.

Bryon said nothing, but merely stared Alistair down. Bryon's gaze was fierce, and for a few moments, the silent tension between them rose to such a point that Alistair thought it might only be ended either by him confessing everything about the Wardens or by dueling with the younger man to the death.

But then a small hand fell upon Bryon's shoulder, and his gaze shifted away from Alistair to the hand's owner.

"Bryon, no matter what sort of test this is, those treaties are important," Bena began. "And not just for the Wardens. If this is a Blight, then those treaties could be useful to all of Ferelden."

Her words seemed to placate her brother. "Fine," Bryon said, releasing a sigh before regaining his commanding presence. "We'll take shifts sleeping for what's left of the night and then head out at daybreak." He then turned back to Alistair. "But no more games. I'm giving the orders until we make it back to Ostagar. You can inform us when darkspawn are nearby, but don't expect any of us to follow you into some sort of deathtrap."

Alistair didn't protest. In fact, he couldn't help but be a bit relieved, despite the harshness of Bryon's words. He wanted to just have someone to follow—now more than ever after learning of Nolan's failed attempt at leadership. He didn't want to experience that same sort of failing.

Bryon then took nearly a minute to whisper something in his sister's ear that Alistair couldn't make out. She nodded in response and asked her brother for his pack. Her own had been left behind in her rush to get here.

"Hildra, Ellana, Amee, come with me for a moment," Bena said, slinging the pack on her shoulder.

"Why?" Amee asked, and Alistair turned to look at the mage. He had noticed the stains on her robes when he arrived, but he had merely thought that they were a result of the wolf attack. Now he wondered if any of the blood on her clothing had once belonged to Nolan.

"I'm going to go and get cleaned up," Bena replied, moving toward Amee and placing a reassuring hand upon the mage's arm. "Believe me when I say that doing so would make you feel better."

Amee looked tired and put up no further resistance to Bena's request. "Fine," she muttered, as she allowed Bena to wrap an arm around her shoulders and begin leading her away from the clearing.

They paused in front of Bryon before proceeding. "Camp's not far from here, and it's in a defensible location," Bena told him. "We'll meet you there when we're done."

"If there's any sort of trouble—"

"Then we'll be careful," Bena said. "Don't worry," she added in an almost amused tone, "if anything shows up that the four of us can't handle, I won't do anything _half-crazed._"

"We'll be close enough to the pond that I should be able to sense any approaching darkspawn from the camp," Alistair spoke up, although perhaps with a bit more meekness in his voice than he had displayed before his argument with Bryon. "We'll be able to get to you before you run into any sort of ambush."

"Thank you, Alistair," Bena replied and then offered him a smile—a smile that brought warmth to his heart in spite of the dark turn that the events of the day had taken.

Bena whispered one final thing to her brother before the women headed for the nearby pond. Alistair watched them until they disappeared around a hill. He turned back to the others and noticed that Bryon was looking at him, but not with the anger that had been in his eyes earlier. Bryon turned away once Alistair saw him, and the Warden was left to wonder what the look had meant. _And what did Bena say to him?_

The men then went off in the direction of the camp. Suddenly, there was a loud thud and an "Oof!" that came from the back of the men's party.

Alistair turned around to see Torval with one boot extended in the air. Face down at the dwarf's feet was Daveth. It looked as if the human rogue had been heading away from the rest of the group when the dwarf tripped him.

"Torval, care to fill us in?" Bryon asked.

"I caught the boy here tryin' to sneak off in that direction," Torval replied, tilting his head toward the pond's location. "Didn't think ya'd want him doin' what he was no doubt plannin' on doin'."

"Come on," Daveth began, turning over but staying close to the ground. "The four of them are _bathing!_ Are you honestly telling me that none of you would want to see that?"

Bryon made it over to the rogue in a few, quick strides. He took up a menacing stance as he stood over Daveth. "I thought we had this conversation before," he said, seething.

"I just wanted something that would help me forget about the impending doom surrounding us! I could be dead tomorrow, you know."

"You could be dead tonight," Bryon replied coldly.

"We could tie him up and leave him for the darkspawn," Alistair chimed in, completely agreeing with Bryon on this. Tonight, after spending the day trying to get through the Wilds and now learning of a friend's death, he had no more patience for Daveth—however skilled with locks and traps the man might be. On top of that, the thought of the rogue ogling Bena while she bathed particularly irked Alistair for some reason.

Bryon then turned his head back toward Alistair and actually smirked at the Warden's suggestion.

_Maybe this is what we need to get along with one another,_ Alistair thought—_a common enemy._

"You can't be serious!" Daveth protested. "I was just following my natural male instincts. You can't fault me for that! Everyone has to fulfill certain needs, however base they might be." The rogue then looked at Alistair. "I bet you even Chantry-boy knows the sort of urges I'm talking about."

"But I would never violate the privacy of fellow Wardens to act on them as you do," Alistair retorted.

"Technically, though, they're out in the open, so it's not exactly private—"

"Enough!" Bryon interrupted. "This is your final warning, Daveth. Get your head out of the gutter before I have to beat some decency into you. Now get up."

The rogue complied, rising to his feet and keeping his mouth shut.

"Now," Bryon added, "you'll be taking point for the rest of our trip back to camp. That way, we can all make sure you stay where you're supposed to be."

Daveth groaned but soon took the lead followed by Torval and Jory. Bryon then made his way so that he was walking beside Alistair.

"So you were raised by the Chantry?" Bryon asked.

"Oh, you mean why the 'Chantry-boy' comment? Well, I was sent to the Chantry as a child and trained to be a templar, but I was recruited by the Wardens before I took my vows," Alistair replied.

"So do you dislike mages?"

Alistair wondered what Bryon was trying to get at. He found it odd to hear something defensive in the young man's tone, as if Bryon were trying to determine whether Alistair was some sort of threat. _Or maybe he's just trying to find another reason to pick a fight with you. _In the end, Alistair gave him a sarcastic, yet honest, answer, "Only the scary ones. The ones who like turning people into toads, the ones who think all their spells need that extra touch of blood magic, the ones with the hairy warts—no, I can't say I like them very much."

"But a mage like Amee—you'd stand up for her in front of a Revered Mother despite your Chantry upbringing?"

_So this is about Amee,_ Alistair realized. _Is he trying to find out if she's safe around me?_ "First of all," Alistair began, "Amee is a _Warden_ recruit who just happens to be a mage—and a good mage at that, not an evil one. And, secondly, while I may agree with certain morals preached by the Chantry, that doesn't mean I support the politics practiced by the Chantry. I would only attack a mage if they deserved it. I wouldn't do so just because some Revered Mother told me to."

"But you do have all the abilities of a templar?" Bryon asked, sounding more curious than protective with this question.

"Yes," Alistair replied. "I was basically done with my training. All I had left to do was to take my vows."

"Those abilities must be quite useful against the darkspawn that can control magic."

"They're called emissaries. It's best to take them down as soon as they show up on the field, or else they tend to make fights rather messy. And, yes, being a templar does help with that."

"Can you teach others how to fight like a templar?"

Alistair hesitated for a moment. "I _could_ teach someone that, but…" Alistair knew his life would be simpler if he just responded 'Yes.' If Bryon really was interested in learning how to be a templar, Alistair thought that teaching him those skills might end the young man's apparent animosity towards him. This would make the next few days—and perhaps months if they were sent on the same assignments—much easier. But Alistair wasn't always one to take the easy way out, especially not when it came to this. He finally continued, "But I gave my word when I left the Chantry that I would not pass on what I had learned. I cannot break that promise."

Alistair braced himself for whatever Bryon might throw at him. He remembered how it had taken Bena's help to calm her brother down when Alistair had last withheld information from him. He thought Bryon's reaction to a denial of templar training might be similar to that, but that just made the noble's actual response all the more surprising.

"I can respect that," Bryon stated. "However useful such talents might be on a battlefield, I won't ask you to break your word."

"Thank you," somehow tumbled out of Alistair's mouth, despite his amazement that Bryon was now talking to him civilly for the first time since the young man had become a recruit.

"I have not been myself of late," Bryon continued solemnly as they neared the camp. "I have treated you ill when, from what I'm told, apparently you've done nothing but act honorably and look after my sister and the other recruits. I apologize for misjudging you and for insulting the memory of your fellow Warden. Nolan did fight well, and he died bravely. I should not have said anything to suggest otherwise."

Alistair was caught off guard and touched by Bryon's words. He knew that they reflected Bena's opinion of him as well, given that her whisper had been the start of Bryon's change in attitude. He wanted to say something equally respectful in return, but, in responding to the young man, Alistair still found that humor came easier than sincerity. "It's understandable. When people are upset, they tend to do things that are out of character—threatening to tie up one of their charges and leave him for the darkspawn, for example."

"That may have been out of character for you, but it seemed like a sound course of action to me," Bryon said with smile, and both men laughed at the thought.

* * *

Within a half-hour, the women made it back to camp, and Bryon was glad to see that the blood was gone from Amee's face. He couldn't help but be pleased at the rest of her appearance as well. Her robes were apparently past the point of salvaging, so she was now donning his spare trousers and tunic, which were far too large for her tiny frame. A cord had to be tied around her waist to keep everything in place.

Amee also seemed calmer. He was glad that his sister had been able to speak with her. Bena had a way with people. She could make them feel hopeful, or pacify them, or even persuade them to agree with her logic. It was a talent that had always worked on people—except for their father, who had taught her the skill in the first place.

When she got back to camp, Bena explained to Bryon that Amee was still upset about Nolan, but at least the mage had eventually been able to admit that she was feeling better. Bena suggested that they not push her to use her healing magic, though, until she was ready, and Bryon agreed. They had enough health poultices to hopefully last them for the rest of their time in the Wilds.

Bryon offered to take the first watch with Torval and Alistair and told his sister to get some rest. He was worried about her. Although she had acted more like her old self after the fight that evening, she still appeared tired. For a good amount of time, though, Bena sat up beside her brother and talked with him. Eventually, her head came to rest on his shoulder, and she gave in to sleep.

Bryon could soon tell, however, that the sleep was not restful. Her breathing was staggered at times, and she even whimpered. In an attempt to soothe her, Bryon placed his arm around her and whispered to her that everything would be all right. Her breath steadied a bit at that, but her face still did not seem peaceful.

Bryon looked up and saw that Alistair was staring at her with concern in his eyes. In a hushed voice, Bryon asked, "Was she like this earlier tonight?"

The Warden nodded, and the guilt Bryon had been feeling for leaving his sister alone to face the horrors that Howe brought upon their family grew worse. He held her for the rest of the night and did not wake her for her shift. He wanted her to get what sleep she could, however unsatisfying it might be. She needed to somehow keep up her strength for the remainder of their journey through the Wilds.

At dawn, the party prepared to head out. They wasted no time that morning as everyone seemed to share a common desire to be gone from the place as quickly as possible.

The group came across several bands of darkspawn as they travelled, no doubt drawn by their larger numbers. However, having nine people fighting together against an enemy made dispatching their foes much easier, especially given that the members of the group responded well to Bryon's commands.

Their efforts went so smoothly, in fact, that they made it to the abandoned Warden outpost before midday. Unfortunately, though, they found upon entering the ruin that not everything could go their way.

"They're not here," Bena said as she sifted through the remains of an old chest.

"Well, well, what have we here?" a woman's voice said from behind them.

Everyone turned to view the newcomer, making their weapons ready. When Bryon spun around, he saw that an exotic, dark-haired creature now stood before them. Appearing out of nowhere, Bryon could tell that this woman was beautiful, mysterious, and without a doubt dangerous.

She had an animalistic quality to her movement. She didn't seem to walk, but rather prowled the upper level of the ruins. And she wore about as much clothing as an animal too. When Bryon found his eyes roaming over her nearly naked form rather than staying alert for a potential attack, he realized that she was using her body as a distraction. Once that became apparent to him, Bryon shifted his attention back to where it belonged.

The woman continued speaking as she moved toward them. "Are you vultures, I wonder? Scavengers poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely intruders, coming to these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?" She stopped when she stood several yards from them. "What say you, scavengers or intruders?"

"We're neither," Bena replied firmly. "The Grey Wardens once owned this tower."

"'Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse," the woman retorted, as she moved to circle around them. "I have watched your progress for some time. _Where do they go?_ I wondered. _Why are they here? _And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

Alistair spoke up first. "Don't answer her. She looks Chasind and that means others may be nearby."

Bryon knew Alistair was right. There was near as great a chance of their party running into the Chasind Wilders out here as there was of them running into darkspawn.

The woman, however, seemed to find Alistair's comment worthy of ridicule. Mockingly, she said, "Ooo, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you."

"Yes, swooping is bad," Alistair replied slowly, keeping his sword and shield at the ready.

Daveth then spoke. Bryon had expected some sort of lecherous remark from the rogue given the woman's state of dress, but Daveth actually seemed worried by her appearance. He exclaimed, "She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!"

"Witch of the Wilds," the woman repeated before adding, "Such idle fancies those legends. Have you no minds of your own? You there," she said, speaking to Bena. "Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

Bryon didn't like this mysterious woman singling out his sister for her questioning. Whether she was Chasind or a witch, there was something about her that Bryon didn't entirely trust.

But for some reason, though, his sister didn't seem to share his concerns. She replied, "I am Bena. A pleasure to meet you."

That response seemed to surprise the woman. _Was that what Ben was going for? To catch her off her guard? _

"Now that is a proper, civil greeting even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest—something that is here no longer."

"Here no longer?" Bryon asked, although he didn't know if he wanted to hear the answer, especially if it meant this trial would become more arduous.

Alistair interrupted before Morrigan could respond. "You stole it, didn't you?" he accused. "You're some kind of sneaky…witch thief!"

"How very eloquent," Morrigan replied, and her words seemed to anger Alistair. Bryon could hear the Warden's metal glove tightening around his sword's hilt. Bena heard it as well apparently as she put a hand on Alistair's wrist to stay his movement. The rage faded from his eyes a bit at her touch. He nodded at Bena and loosened his grip.

Morrigan didn't seem too interested in this silent exchange, but instead decided to continue with her line of questions. "How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems," Alistair said in a calmer tone. "Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest that you return them."

"If I did have the documents you speak of, then why would be so inclined as to give them to you? The Wardens abandoned those pieces of paper long ago, leaving them free for the taking."

"We can pay you," Bryon replied. He had at least two sovereigns in his coin purse. He would willingly pay that to hasten his party's departure from this place.

"With what?" Morrigan asked. "With ugly, round pieces of metal? What worth would such things hold for me here in the Wilds?"

"What about this?" Bena inquired, removing her necklace and holding it up to Morrigan.

The mysterious woman took the chain by the ring that hung upon it. "Now what do we have here?"

"It's a piece of metal, but it certainly isn't ugly," Bena replied.

Bryon knew exactly what it was. Bena hadn't gone anywhere in the last ten years without having that ring with her. "Ben, you can't give that up," he blurted out.

"So 'tis valuable to you?" Morrigan asked, although she had no doubt guessed as much based on Bryon's comment.

"Yes," Bena replied. "But not as valuable as getting those treaties. Would you be willing to help us?"

"'Twas not I that removed them—"

"Then give the lady her ring back," Alistair demanded, stepping forward. Bena once again stuck her hand in front of him, though, before he could get to Morrigan.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," she continued, "I was not the one who removed the treaties. 'Twas my mother, in fact, who took them. I would be willing to take you to her in exchange for this." She indicated that she meant the ring. "And provided that your company behave themselves."

Before anyone else could utter a protest, Bena said, "We will."

At that, Morrigan turned and began leading them deeper into the Wilds. As they walked, Bryon moved to his sister and whispered, "I hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I," Bena replied.


	11. Chapter 10 The Joining Part 1

_**Author's Note: **_Another delay in posting so I'm making up for it with two chapters about the Joining. Chapter 11 covers the events leading up to the Joining and the ritual itself; Chapter 12 is what happens afterward. I promise that Flemeth will be making an actual appearance later in the story, but I didn't think her introduction scene was really needed here. The ritual has a few differences too, mainly because of the number of recruits—I didn't think that Duncan and Alistair would be handling the Joining of that many recruits on their own.

I always enjoy hearing what people think of this story—whether good or bad—so thank you for your reviews! Also, thank you for reading!

* * *

"That wasn't as bad as I thought it might be."

"What?" Alistair asked, realizing he had not really heard the words just spoken. Instead, he had been focusing completely on the apostate now leading them back to Ostagar. He had been keeping his smiting abilities ready during their entire time with Morrigan and her mother, just in case. He wasn't going to let his guard down around them—apostates were just too sneaky for him to take chances.

But now a voice was pulling him away from his concentration, and he couldn't seem to ignore it. "Meeting Morrigan's mother—it wasn't as bad as I thought it might be," the voice repeated. It was a sweet voice in Alistair's opinion, but not to the point where it ever became annoying. There just seemed to be a nice quality to it that made Alistair enjoy hearing it. Yes, there was seriousness to the voice too, and often he heard it reveal the sadness of its owner, but he found he liked how the voice was generally kind when directed toward him.

"Yes, well I guess any meeting with an apostate where you don't get turned into a frog is a good meeting," he replied.

Bena laughed, and Alistair knew that had to be his favorite part of her voice. In an amused tone, she said, "I was thinking more about the part where we got the scrolls we were looking for, but I suppose not being a frog is nice too."

He turned to look at her and saw her smiling. He wanted to come up with something witty to say to her—not just his usual sarcasm but something clever to really impress her. Being so close to her, though, just made his mind go blank. He was going to try stumbling through some sort of comment on the old witch's riddles when Torval came up and began walking on the other side of him.

"Ya find anythin' interestin' while starin' at the witch's backside?" the dwarf asked.

Alistair spun his head to look at Torval in shock. His face went red with embarrassment at the dwarf's question. _Of all the times to say something like that, of course he would choose when Bena is right beside me._ Alistair somehow composed himself enough to say, "Excuse me?"

"You've been eyin' that woman's rear for quite some time now. There must be somethin' there to keep your interest."

"There is _absolutely nothing_ there that would interest me," Alistair said, flustered. He looked back at Bena to gauge her reaction before he continued with his explanation. She was looking down at the path in front of her. The smile was gone, and she was now biting her bottom lip in a way that Alistair found so distracting he lost his train of thought for a moment. When he recovered, he turned back to Torval and said, "I'm trained as a templar, and she's an apostate. I'm just trying to be ready in case she tries anything against us."

"Right," the dwarf said. "Well, if that's the case, I suggest ya keep focused on that task and stop flirtin' with other girls."

"_What!"_ Alistair said, mortified by Torval's bluntness. Again he looked to Bena. He wanted to explain, to make her see that he was honorable and chivalrous and not in any way trying to make unseemly advances on her. He didn't have to, though. When he looked at her, he felt a wave of relief. Her face was still downcast and her cheeks did seem rosier than usual, but now she was at least biting down on an upturned lip, obviously holding back another smile.

Then, once she had managed to completely hide any sign of a grin, she looked up at the dwarf and said, "Don't worry, Torval, I'll go and stop being a distraction to our templar here. I should check on Amee anyway."

She left the two of them and made her way to the mage. Alistair turned back to Torval once she was gone. "Torval, your behavior just now was completely inappropriate. I'm the Grey Warden here and you're just the recruit—"

"And the kid's the one that's been callin' the shots lately," the dwarf interrupted. "You've seemed a decent enough topsider yourself, and I didn't want 'im bringing his wrath down on ya when we're so close to Ostagar."

"Bryon and I have settled our differences," Alistair replied defensively.

"Maybe ya have," Torval said. "All I know is, that boy seems as protective of her as an alcoholic dwarf is of his next pint. Gettin' between two things like that—it can become a real ugly mess real quick."

"I'll take that under advisement," Alistair said, feeling somewhat dejected in knowing that the dwarf was probably right.

* * *

Duncan headed for the gate when he heard that a party was approaching from the Wilds. Astor and Lux followed closely behind him.

The gates opened, and Duncan saw Alistair in front of the recruits—_all of the recruits, _he noticed. He scanned the group and visually confirmed what he had felt—there was only one Warden among them. Alistair spotted his mentor and made his way toward him. The young man quickly explained what had happened to Nolan and how the rest of the recruits had joined his party.

During this conversation, Astor and Lux left the Warden's side and went for Amee and Bena, respectively. Duncan wondered for a moment why Bryon's dog was now so attached to the elf-mage and why she appeared to be wearing a man's clothing, but he ignored these thoughts when Bryon came up to Alistair and said, "You should tell him about the witches keeping the scrolls as well."

Alistair proceeded to do so, and the other recruits gathered around them, interjecting with their own comments during Alistair's recap of events. Duncan found the tale both troubling and curious. The increased darkspawn activity and the death of a Warden did not bode well for their upcoming battle. And why would an apostate be interested in the Wardens' treaties? It didn't sound as if she had hoped to gain anything personally by guarding the treaties, other than perhaps the preservation of her home, but was that really all she was after?

When they had finished recounting their trials, Duncan then informed them of what would happen next. "Now that we have the vials of darkspawn blood, we can begin the final preparations for the Joining ritual. The ritual shall take place in the old ruins at nightfall. The time until then is yours to do with what you will, but I would suggest that you use the time wisely. A large-scale battle swiftly approaches. I believe it may even be upon us before tomorrow's dawn. Make sure you are prepared for it."

The group then dispersed, some going off to accomplish specific tasks, while others went in search of something to keep themselves entertained until the ritual. Ellana headed for the kennel master to give him flowers she had collected in the Wilds. Bryon departed for the camping ground of the Cousland's army. He wanted to make sure that the transition over to the king's leadership had gone smoothly for his men. He whistled for Astor to follow, and the dog looked back and forth between his master and the elf he now sat beside. Amee eventually patted him on the head and told him to follow Bryon, at which point the dog barked happily and went running after his master. Duncan noticed that it brought a smile to the otherwise somber-looking elf-mage.

When only Amee and Bena remained with Duncan and Alistair, Bena spoke up, "I'm going to the quartermaster's. I'll sell the items we found that we don't really need and then see if he has anything worth buying." She turned to Amee, "If you'd like to come with me, perhaps we can find you replacement robes either there or with the mages."

"Thanks," Amee said, looking at her feet, "but I don't know if I have enough to trade for a new set of robes. And it doesn't matter anyway, I'm fine as I am now."

"Nonsense," Bena replied. "I've tried borrowing Bryon's clothes before to use for training sessions and I know that they can't be comfortable for you. Besides, I can pay for your robes."

Amee looked up at her and said, "Oh no, I can't let you do that."

"Of course you can. We're both future Wardens, and as such, we should look out for one another." She continued, not letting the mage protest, "On top of that, I still owe you for looking after Bryon and for…" Bena paused and brushed her fingers along her jaw, where the worst of her bruises had been. "And for helping me to begin erasing a few bad memories."

At that, Amee finally consented, and the pair headed off to the quartermaster with Lux in tow.

"That has to be the finest pair of Warden recruits that I have ever seen, Duncan," a voice said from behind Duncan and Alistair. Duncan turned to see King Cailan approaching with his eyes fixed on the women now making their way to the far side of the camp.

"Your majesty," Duncan said, before bowing as the king stood to his right. On his left, he could swear he felt Alistair shifting his weight, as if he were uncomfortable with bowing to the monarch. Focusing on the king's comment, instead of Alistair's uneasiness, Duncan stated, "Both of them are quite skilled, as are the other recruits that will soon participate in the Joining."

Cailan then turned his attention to the senior Warden. With an enthusiastic tone to his voice, he replied, "I have no doubt of that, Duncan! All Grey Wardens have to be talented. And with your legendary fighters at my side, our upcoming victory against the darkspawn will truly be glorious!"

"Victory is not guaranteed, your majesty," Duncan said seriously, hoping to make the young king realize the gravity of the situation. "It may be advisable to delay this battle, to consider moving northward and waiting for reinforcements. The Orlesian Wardens would no doubt be willing to offer us assistance against this darkspawn threat, and your uncle Eamon hoped to have his troops here within days."

"Ah, yes, my dear, dear uncle," the king began wistfully, once again turning his eyes to the women. "I must admit, at times, he has the strangest hopes." Duncan felt as if he hadn't fully understood the real meaning of Cailan's last comment, and the king's next remark caught Duncan completely off guard. "Did you know my father was rumored to have had an affair with a Grey Warden?"

Duncan did know, but it was not something he wanted to discuss in front of both Cailan and Alistair. "Surely your majesty doesn't give any credence to such an outlandish rumor?" Duncan replied carefully, trying not to provide an actual answer to the king's question.

"No, Duncan, I suppose I do not," Cailan started. "But, if that Warden looked anything like Ben, I could certainly understand why he would do it. And if the rumor were true, it might possibly provide me with an agreeable way for me to follow in father's footsteps."

Duncan could tell that Alistair was gritting his teeth at that point. Thankfully, the king soon excused himself, saying that he wanted to meet with Duncan and the Couslands after they had completed the Joining. Duncan agreed, and then Cailan was off to speak with Loghain. Once the king was gone, Duncan turned back to Alistair, who appeared to be seething.

"I thought I told you not to become attached."

"This has nothing to do with my being attached," Alistair replied angrily. "This has to do with _him!_" He pointed in the direction that Cailan had headed. "He has no right to speak that way, even if he is king."

"It's nothing that you should upset yourself about, Alistair," Duncan stated calmly.

The comment didn't calm Alistair, though, and instead, drove him to continue. "The way he was going on about that rumor, he was basically suggesting that he wouldn't have any problems with making Bena his whore! And is it true, Duncan? What he said about my fath—what he said about Maric and that Warden, is it true?"

Duncan noticed how Alistair had faltered in speaking of the late king. Duncan knew that Alistair was the bastard son of King Maric, and he also knew how much that fact bothered Alistair. It had brought the young Warden nothing but hurt throughout his life. Neither King Maric nor King Cailan ever recognized him as their blood, nor did they ever show him any sort of affection.

Duncan knew the answer to Alistair's question, but now was not the time to converse on that subject. Instead, Duncan said, "We can discuss this later, Alistair. Right now, we have a Joining to ready ourselves for. Take the vials of darkspawn blood to the mages so that they can finish their preparations."

Alistair didn't look satisfied with Duncan's response, but fortunately Alistair had always been a good protégé to Duncan. Although he did grumble on occasion, he generally knew when to argue and when to keep his protests to himself. At Duncan's last remark, Alistair nodded grumpily and headed off toward the mages' camp.

Duncan was not looking forward to the next time that Alistair would want to have this conversation.

* * *

Nightfall came swifter than Bena could have imagined. She had managed to get everything done that she had wanted to; she sold their excess junk, restocked their supply of health poultices and injury kits, and bought new robes for Amee from a tranquil mage. Now the time for the Joining was upon them.

As instructed, the recruits gathered in the remnants of a circular room in the old ruins. There was no ceiling left to the structure. Only several remaining pillars offered any indication of the former shape of the room. These columns were positioned along the border of the room, and in front of them were several Wardens, standing silent and alert.

The recruits were in the center of the room, facing an altar upon which was a large, silver chalice. Amee stood to Bena's left, and Bryon to her right. Alistair stood nearby Amee, and Bena heard the mage ask, "Is this like a Harrowing?"

"In a sense," he replied, offering her no further elaboration. Bena noticed a slight shiver escape her elven friend before Duncan strode in from behind them.

"At last we come to the Joining," the older Warden began. "The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint."

"We're going to drink the blood of those…those creatures?" Jory asked with obvious trepidation in his voice. Bena couldn't blame him. The idea of drinking in the taint was a grim prospect, but she had known that becoming a Warden would not be easy. She also knew that being a Warden was what she truly wanted. It would give purpose to what now felt like an otherwise purposeless life. She was willing to do what was necessary to have that, but now another feeling was creeping into the pit of her stomach—_guilt._ She had been willing to make sacrifices to become a Warden, but she didn't want her brother having to do this. Having him fight alongside her was one thing; having him drink the blood of darkspawn was something else entirely.

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you," Duncan continued. "This is the source of our power and our victory."

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon," Alistair added.

"Those who survive?" Bryon asked, his brow furrowing.

"Not all who drink the blood will survive," Duncan replied. "And those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay. We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first."

Duncan then had Alistair recite a haunting speech. When he finished, it was apparently time for the ritual to begin. Daveth was closest to Duncan, and the Warden told the rogue to step forward.

"Well, here goes nothing, loves," Daveth said as he drank from the chalice. Everything went silent for a moment. The other recruits watched as Daveth returned the chalice to Duncan, with no immediate reaction to the taint. Then the rogue lurched forward in pain. He grasped desperately at his forehead and his throat before his eyes turned completely white and he fell to the ground.

"Is he—" Hildra began to ask before Duncan continued with the ritual, as if he had not noticed the first recruit's death.

Jory was now nearest to Duncan. The Warden told him to step forward, but the knight was backing away. At that, Bena noticed the Wardens in the back of the room making ready their weapons. They moved in front of the exit to block any escape attempt. At the sight of them, Jory drew his sword. When Bryon began reaching to do the same, Bena tried to stay his hand. She knew this wasn't going to end well for the knight whether they involved themselves or not.

But Bryon didn't seem to care. He looked tired of all the secrecy of the Wardens and angry at the way they were now surrounding Jory. Even Duncan had put the chalice back on the altar so that he could draw his sword against Jory and force the knight into submission. Bryon looked like he wouldn't stand for it—no matter what good the Wardens might do and no matter what might happen to him or any of the other recruits who might choose to follow him.

But Bena found that she just couldn't follow him this time. Where one of them led, the other usually followed, but now she couldn't bring herself to go along with him. She didn't like the idea of them killing Jory, but part of her understood the Wardens' reasons for having the Joining as it was. When Bryon didn't respond to the pleading look in her eyes and then proceeded to shrug off her attempt to pacify him, Bena did the only she could.

She took the lead. She brushed by Alistair as she ran to the altar and drank down a gulp of the dark, viscous liquid.

Through the burning in her throat, she heard Alistair call out her name. That had distracted Bryon long enough for the Wardens to deal with Jory. It had also apparently killed her brother's desire to start fighting with the Wardens. Instead, he sheathed his sword and tried to make over to his sister.

Bena felt like the ground was giving out from under her. She somehow managed to set the chalice back on the altar, but she was having trouble trying to grip the altar itself and regain her balance. She failed and soon gave in to a feeling of falling backward. Time seemed to slow. She could see Bryon coming toward her, and just as she thought she would connect with the cold stone below, an unknown pair of hands caught her from behind. Then all faded to darkness.

The darkness was quickly replaced by an eerie green light. Bena was lying on the ground somewhere, but it was ground unlike any she had seen before. Feeling it beneath her fingers, it reminded her of only one thing—_death._ The ground was dry and barren and almost ashen. Lifting herself up, she smelled the air, which was stale and still. Then, an unnaturally hot wind came up from behind her. She turned to see a dragon before her, beating its wings and roaring into the green sky. More noises came from behind her. There she saw a horizon spotted with small dots of orange flame. As these dots grew closer, Bena saw that they were torches being carried by an army of darkspawn.

She reached for daggers, but they were not on her belt. Her knife too was gone from her glove. There she was, unarmed and surrounded on all sides by enemies, and now all she could do was choose how she wanted to die. She wasn't going to go down without a fight, though—not this time. She moved toward the approaching darkspawn, determined to take a few of them down barehanded before they overwhelmed her, but the dragon apparently had other plans.

It roared again, and Bena turned around just in time to see a flame beginning to emerge from its mouth. There was nothing she could do. Reflexively, she threw her arms in front of her face and braced herself for the inevitable.

"Bena?"

Oddly enough, she didn't think the inevitable would involve the dragon stopping its attack to call her name.

"Bena? Can you hear me?"

She tried to focus. The dragon, the darkspawn, the green sky—all of it was gone. Now there was only darkness—darkness she realized was the result of closed eyes. She opened them to find Alistair above her. She was lying down somewhere and he was at her side, with one ungloved against her cheek and the other holding her wrists and pressing her arms down to her chest.

"Oh, good. You're awake," he said. She looked around and saw she was on a bedroll in her tent at the Warden's camp. She then cast her eyes down to the hand pinning her, and Alistair immediately let go and pulled himself away from her completely. "I'm sorry about that. You were flailing your arms about in your sleep and I didn't want you hurting yourself."

"Thanks," she replied hoarsely. Her throat still stung from the taint, and Alistair noticed.

"Here, drink this," he said, helping her to sit up and handing her a mug of water.

She drank down several gulps and suddenly felt fully awake. She put the mug down and asked urgently, "Bryon—did he…?"

"He survived, as did the others…except for Daveth and Jory. Bryon took a drink of the darkspawn blood once we knew you were going to make it," Alistair replied. "I don't know what would have happened if things hadn't worked out as they did—if you didn't drink the taint when you did or if you hadn't…if you hadn't made it, I think Bryon would have started a rather bloody fight with the Wardens."

"And now he's one of them," Bena said gravely, knowing that she had brought her brother to this fate.

"Yes, he is, and he'll make a good Warden too," Alistair said reassuringly. "At least, he will as soon as he realizes that the Wardens are the good guys, and we do what we have to for a reason."

Duncan then appeared at her tent, and both Bena and Alistair looked up at him. "So I see you have arisen," he said. "Welcome to the Wardens, Bena. Now that you have recovered, King Cailan would like to see you, your brother, and myself. Alistair and I will give you a moment to ready yourself."

"But, Duncan, she's just woken up!" Alistair exclaimed. "Maybe only you and Bryon should go see the king."

Bena didn't understand why Alistair was so opposed to the idea, but Duncan didn't seem to share his concern. He repeated his instructions, and this time Alistair obeyed, leaving her alone in the tent. She washed her face in basin of water left for her and then re-braided her hair, which had come loose while she slept.

Feeling somewhat presentable, she left her tent and found Duncan and Bryon waiting for her. Bryon didn't look happy, but he didn't look like he would fly into a sudden rage at any moment either. Bena hoped that he would stay that way.


	12. Chapter 11 The Joining Part 2

_**Author's Note: **_Two chapters were posted today, so be sure to read Chapter 11 before this one so that this chapter makes sense. I've yet again taken a few liberties with the plot of the game to fit it to this story.

As always, thanks for reading!

* * *

"_You want us to do what?"_ Bryon shouted, and Bena didn't take it as a good sign that he was now yelling at their monarch.

"I want you, your sister, and Alistair to go to the Tower of Ishal and light the beacon during the battle," Cailan repeated. "This is an important part of our campaign."

"This is ridiculous," Bryon retorted.

"Bryon!" Bena said reproachfully.

Bryon turned to his sister, and said, "What, Bena? Being a Warden was supposed to mean that I would be able to do more to fight off darkspawn, but now it seems as if I should have stayed with our army if I had wanted to actually fight in this battle."

The arguments continued for a time, with a mage, Duncan, and Teyrn Loghain offering their own opinions on the upcoming battle. The teyrn had looked particularly grim from the moment Bena and her brother had entered the king's tent. Bena couldn't be certain, but it seemed as if Loghain's expression turned fouler when he looked at her. She figured that it might have something to do with his obvious distaste for Wardens.

The bickering came to a halt when another man barged into the tent. From the look of him, he appeared to be a scout. He bowed deeply to the king, and said, "Forgive me for the intrusion, your highness, but I bring news of Lord Fergus Cousland."

"What is it?" Bryon demanded.

"We found his party, milord," the man began, but paused before continuing. Whatever he had to say was obviously difficult for him. "They were brutally slaughtered by the darkspawn."

Bena felt crushed by loss once more, and Bryon seemed to turn to stone. Her brother turned to the scout and asked, "Did you recover Lord Cousland's remains?"

"No, milord," he replied, looking pale. "They...they tore the bodies apart. There wasn't enough left to...to clearly identify his remains." Bena felt bile rising in her throat. When the man had said 'brutally,' he apparently had meant it.

But Bryon was still questioning. "If that's the case, then you can't be certain he was among them." That brought a fleeting sense of hope to Bena, but the scout then reached into a pocket of his cloak and retrieved a gold ring with the Cousland seal upon it. It was the ring her older brother had worn since his sixteenth birthday.

"We found this among swords and shields that indicated that the men were from Highever," the scout said, handing the ring to Bryon. Bena's twin gripped the ring tightly in his hand, and Bena saw from his expression that he looked utterly defeated. She felt the same way, but she seemed to be facing more of a struggle to hold back tears.

Then the king suddenly spoke up, "Leave us—everyone but the Wardens." After making several signs of annoyance, his other advisers cleared the tent. "My Lord Bryon, my dear Lady Bena, you have no idea how truly sorrowful I am over your losses. Losses that shall no doubt be mourned across the whole of Ferelden." Cailan said earnestly, moving around his desk to stand closer to the Wardens. "But, Duncan, this now forces us into a bit of a predicament."

"Your majesty?" Duncan asked.

"I have before me the only two people who hold a rightful claim to the teyrnir of Highever, yet both of them are Grey Wardens. I would ask that you release one of them from your service, for Highever should only ever belong under the rule of a Cousland."

"Your majesty, I fear it is not that simple," Duncan replied. "Once a person is a Grey Warden, they forever remain a Grey Warden and surrender all claims to titles and properties. Only on rare occasions throughout the Wardens' history have exceptions to this practice been made."

"Then this shall have to be one of those occasions, Duncan. I need someone I can trust in Highever."

"Your majesty, it is not a Warden's place to become involved in politics unless absolutely necessary. And rejoining the ranks of the nobility can hardly be considered necessary when we are face with a blight."

"_If_ we are even faced with a blight, Duncan. There has yet to be a sign of any archdemon," Cailan retorted, sounding frustrated. He sighed and then continued, "But no matter, if this is a blight, I will not press the issue. If not, then we shall discuss this further after the battle tomorrow."

The king then turned to Bryon, "Are you willing to carry out our plan, milord, and light the beacon?"

Bryon was staring blankly at his closed hand, which now held the only thing that they had left of their brother. Bena could feel him holding back his emotions, and despite the king returning to an earlier point of contention, her brother maintained his composure. "I will light the beacon as you have requested, your highness," he replied. "If you will excuse me, I have business to tend to with the army of Highever, now that…circumstances have changed."

Bryon quickly went out of the tent's exit, and Bena followed him, grabbed his arm, and stopped him from storming off. Duncan slipped past the pair, offering them what privacy he could.

"What, Ben?" Bryon snapped, as he turned around. From the expression on his face, it seemed as if he had now decided to unleash his emotions, and anger was at the forefront.

"Nothing," Bena said, surprised by his bitter reaction. "It's just that we're both upset, and I thought you might want to talk…like we use to do."

"No, Ben, I don't want to talk. I just want this constant series of waking nightmares to end—and talking isn't going to help with that." He pulled his arm free from her grasp and walked off into the night.

Bena felt lost and alone. Both of her brothers had left her—one by death, and the other by his own freewill. She stood at the entrance of the king's tent looking out across Ostagar uncertain of what her next move should be. Then a hand at her right elbow suddenly turned her around.

She stumbled into the gold heavy armor of the man now holding her arm. "Lady Cousland, are you all right?" Cailan asked.

She offered an unconscious response, muttering, "I'm fine."

"But I know you're not," the king said, taking hold of her left arm as well and pulling her in closer. "It was silly of me to have even asked such a question. I have no doubt you must be in anguish over the loss of your parents and now the loss of your older brother. Why do you not come back inside? We can speak more comfortably in there, and I can do my best to ease your sorrows."

A part of her was tempted by Cailan's offer—the part of her that wanted nothing more than to be held reassuringly through her grief. But the rest of her mind knew Cailan's reputation and doubted that 'easing her sorrows' involved only holding. Trying to be at least somewhat diplomatic about the mess she was now in, Bena took a step back from the king and gently tried to release herself from his grip, saying, "Thank you for your offer to console me, your majesty, but I must go and prepare for the trip to the Tower."

"Yes, perhaps now is not the time for such comfort," he said, sighing. The king then released one elbow and she began to turn away from him when he gripped the other tighter and said, "Wait." She spun back towards Cailan to see him reaching behind his back and retrieving a letter he had kept there. He handed it to her and said, "You are to read this after the battle is won and then come to me."

"What is this, your majesty?"

"Know that it is something important for all of Ferelden and do as I say with it. Read it after the battle and then come to me. I will make matters clearer then." Once he had said that, he let her go completely and returned to his tent.

Still upset and now a bit confused, Bena stowed the letter in her pack and turned away from the king's tent. She headed in the general direction of the Warden's camp, but kept her face down as she walked, staying oblivious to her surroundings. She saw another pair of boots in her path, but couldn't bring herself to react to them. Before she ran into the person, the owner of the boots grabbed her arms and steadied her.

She looked up to see Alistair's face before her, his eyes filled with concern. "Bena, are you all right?" For the briefest of moments, he reminded her of Cailan. After all, the king had just asked her nearly the same question and had been holding her in nearly the same way. And beyond that, some of their features were quite similar too, but Alistair had warm, amber eyes whereas the king's were an icy blue, she noticed. Then, those amber eyes went from showing concern to flashing with anger, as Alistair said, "But you're not all right. You've been crying." He released one of her arms to brush away a tear that Bena hadn't realized had fallen down her cheek. "Did Cailan do something to offend you?" Alistair demanded.

"No," Bena replied, taken aback by Alistair's question. "He basically just offered his condolences."

"Condolences?"

"Yes," Bena began, unsteady. "My older brother, Fergus…they found evidence that he…was killed in the Wilds."

"Oh, Maker's breath, Bena. I'm so sorry," Alistair said, as Bena realized that the one hand he had on her arm was about the only thing keeping her upright. His other hand went to cup her cheek. "Is there anything I can do?"

His concern and support seemed truly genuine and, unlike Cailan's, unconditional. He _wanted _to help her, and Bena found she couldn't resist his offer. She knew what she needed at that moment, and hoped Alistair wouldn't find it too inappropriate.

In a swift movement, she leaned into him and pressed her hands and forehead against his cool, grey iron breastplate. "May I just stay here for a moment?" she asked, hoping that she didn't sound too pathetic to him.

Alistair seemed to freeze at her touch, remaining motionless and silent, and Bena began to fear she had overstepped her bounds with the young Warden. She was about to pull away and apologize when the hand that had been holding her cheek now stroked the back of her head and the other moved around her waist.

She didn't know how long they stayed there.

* * *

Amee was feeling emboldened. She didn't know if it was from being a Warden, or from having new, clean robes, or from finally being fed up with herself for moping around for so long. Whatever the reason, Amee was beginning to feel like her old self again, and as such, she was looking for a productive way to spend her time before the upcoming battle.

When Alistair and Bena returned to the Warden's camp and Amee was informed of how Bryon had treated his sister, Amee felt like she found just the thing to do with her time. She was going to find that human and make him realize what a jerk he was being to a woman that was quickly becoming a close friend of hers.

Amee made her way to the Cousland's camp, taking only a moment to pause and enjoy the feel of a warm, night breeze moving through her free hair. She noticed too that the wind made the skirts of her burgundy robes rustle in a most pleasant and fluid way.

The eagerness of Highever guards to help her and direct her to Bryon's tent made her wonder if the robes were perhaps too 'pleasant,' but she dismissed the thought, knowing that she liked them and that was all that really mattered.

She found Bryon's tent and strode into the candlelit shelter to discover Bryon apparently brooding over paperwork. Astor barked happily at her appearance, and she smiled at the dog before turning a serious face toward Bryon and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"I'm making sure my men are prepared for war and for whatever might come next," Bryon replied without looking up from the table.

"So you're going to completely disregard your sister while you do that?"

"What passes between myself and my sister is our business, not yours," he said, his tone becoming angry.

"I'm here because you're obviously not handling that business well," Amee retorted, her voice turning heated as well.

Bryon looked up from the table, glared at her, and bitterly said, "I'm handling it just as well as you handled Nolan's death."

When she had entered the tent, Amee had just been annoyed—now she was furious. She crossed the distance to Bryon and slapped him fiercely across his cheek. When he began to turn his face back to look at her, Amee raised her hand for a second strike, but Bryon caught her wrist with an ungloved hand. She tried hitting him with her free hand, but he caught that wrist as well.

She considered using magic to knock him down, but now that they were this close, Amee caught a glimpse of Bryon's eyes. He had always acted so confident and commanding that Amee had thought he was just being rude and unfeeling about his sister's grief. She didn't stop to consider that even a person as strong as he was might be behaving this way to try to deal with his own losses. But his eyes said it all. There was so much pain in those deep green eyes that Amee loosened her stance and stopped struggling in his grip.

"I'm so sorry, Bryon. I didn't realize how you must be suffering, too," she said, shaking her head. As she softened, she saw something new appear in his eyes, and suddenly he had closed the inches separating them. The warm, passionate lips upon hers caught her off guard. When a soft, moist tongue slid across her lips, she could do nothing to refuse it entrance to explore her mouth.

A moan escaped her, and that seemed to encourage Bryon. He released her wrists and placed one hand at the small of her back and weaved the other into her hair, all the while deepening their kiss.

She didn't know if it was from the warm, wonderful sensations she was feeling or just from his strong arms lifting her, but she knew her feet were no longer on the ground. One of her arms wrapped around his neck, and the hand of the other went to brush her fingers through his hair. She raked the short hair on his head, and suddenly realized it was much shorter than she was used to.

That one thought threw her—everything about this was different than what she was used to. His arms were muscular, like a soldier, not a mage. She was pressed against armor, not robes. And those lips—however experienced and delicious they might be—weren't the lips she was familiar with. No, this wasn't the familiar; this was something different. She hesitated and wondered for a moment if she was really ready for something different, or if part of her was still yearning for the familiar.

Bryon seemed to sense her uncertainty and set her down before breaking the kiss. The sadness she felt when his lips left hers seemed to provide a strong argument for forgetting the past and moving on to something different, but part of her was grateful that he hadn't forced her to make that decision right then and there.

"I probably shouldn't have done that," Bryon said. "It was a bit impulsive of me… You came down here to talk sense into me, and I go and do something completely senseless."

"Oh," Amee replied, somewhat hurt at him calling their kiss 'senseless.' "Does that mean you didn't want to kiss me?"

"No," Bryon answered firmly. He put his hand on her cheek and tilted her face toward his. "I wanted to kiss you. I _still_ want to kiss you, but I don't want you to feel like you have to kiss me back just because you feel sorry for me. I want you to be kissing me for more than that."

"Maybe I was," Amee replied, feeling warm once more.

He briefly and chastely brought his lips to hers, before saying, "Glad to hear it. Perhaps after the battle, once we've had time to put all the horrors of the past few days behind us, then we can continue this discussion. Until then, though," he said, now playing with strands of her hair, "I don't want to force you into anything."

Part of her wanted to tell him that he could force her into his bedroll right now, but another part was still unsure. He was right. Just hours since their Joining and only hours away from a massive battle—now didn't seem like the best moment to be making decisions like this.

"Thank you," she said, pecking his cheek. "I guess I should head back to the Wardens' camp now, if you're all right?"

"I will be," he replied. "And yes, I was being rude toward Bena. I'll speak with her as soon as I get back to camp myself. You could wait here, and I could accompany you back to camp once my affairs are in order, if you'd like."

She knew staying so close to him right now would be dangerous to her resolve, so she declined his offer, saying that she could make it back fine on her own. Despite that, he still sent Astor with her.

She felt conflicted on her walk back to camp, wondering what the right course of action was given that, while Bryon had touched her, she was still thinking about the touch of another. She wondered why the feeling of betrayal she had towards her old love didn't burn away any desire she might feel for him. It would make things easier, so why did her heart keep making things complicated?

Astor barked happily beside her, and suddenly she found herself envying the dog's attitude toward life.


	13. Chapter 12 The Tower of Ishal Part 1

_**Author's Note: **_Sorry for the horribly long delay in posting. I had a bit of writer's block, which I believe I am done with (at least for the moment)! The chapter below leads up to the events at the Tower of Ishal. I had hoped for this chapter to cover the lighting of the beacon, but it was becoming far too long. So, here is part one. Part two should be up later tonight or tomorrow. (Tormenting Alistair in this chapter and the next seemed to help with the writer's block, but please let me know if I've gone over the top.)

Thank you to everyone for reviewing, setting up alerts, and putting this as one of your favorite stories! Special thanks to Fairy for the consistent reviewing! And in response to Fairy's reviews, I promise Redcliffe will be quite interesting once Amee and Bryon run into Jowan—but I guess I have to get us there first. On that note, here is the latest installment. Thank you for reading!

_

* * *

_

_I am not a stalker-templar!_ Alistair repeated to himself for what felt like the tenth time that night. He knew stories of templars, mostly assigned to the Circle, who had grown overly close to their young, female charges. It always started the same—two people of different backgrounds being forced to live in close proximity to one another. Then something would happen, a slight bending of the rules or perhaps one-too-many chance meetings, and, the next moment, things would change. One or both members of the pair would take an interest in the other, and _that _would lead to trouble.

And now Alistair wondered if he was beginning to fall into a similar predicament as he noticed a few of the early warning signs. The woman he found himself focused on might not be a mage, but she was still technically under his command—technically _his_ to keep an eye on—and Alistair was feeling conflicted about his recent behavior toward her.

_You were just looking out for a new Warden—there's nothing wrong with that, is there?_ He wondered as he went back over his latest questionable actions.

He had practically followed her up to the altar at the Joining and had caught her when she had fallen. _Catching a falling person?_ That was most definitely not a crime. _Carrying her to her tent afterward and staying with her until she was awake? _A bit iffy. _Noticing while trying to calm her down from darkspawn nightmares that she must have washed her hair in rose petals after getting back from the Wilds?_ That was, without a doubt, stalker-like.

And then later he had followed her to Cailan's tent. _But Duncan was in that tent too, _he told himself, trying to justify his presence there with a more valid excuse. Waiting for the senior Warden to find out their orders for the upcoming battle seemed like a very logical reason for him to be there.

_Then why didn't you leave when Duncan left? _

Alistair knew why he had stayed, but he just couldn't understand it. He had stayed to make sure that Bena had left that bloody tent before Cailan could try anything on her.

_But why?_

He thought maybe it was because Cailan's attitude earlier had reminded him too much of what Maric was supposedly like. Maric had apparently used and then discarded Alistair's mother, and maybe he just didn't want Cailan doing the same thing to a fellow Grey Warden. Maybe that was it. It was an easier reason to accept than the alternatives that came to mind as he watched Bena from across the Warden's campfire.

She was sharpening her daggers in preparation for their fast-approaching trip to the Tower of Ishal. When she and Alistair had made it back to camp, Duncan had explained to him the king's plan, and Alistair found himself agreeing with Bryon's assessment of it—the plan sounded completely ludicrous. It made no sense for three Wardens to be going to the Tower when the real battle was taking place on the other side of Ostagar. The other new Wardens would be going with Duncan to the frontlines, and Alistair thought that he should be going with them. Although he preferred the idea of staying close to Bena, Alistair knew that she and her brother could handle lighting the beacon. But Duncan would hear none of it.

"But what if you need backup?" Alistair had protested. "It's not as if it would be easy for a courier to make it from the frontlines to the Tower and find us to let us know that you needed help, and then for us to get back down to you fast enough so that we could actually make a difference!"

"Lux or Astor could," Bena spoke up. "They could find each other anywhere, and quickly too. Besides that, they don't scare easily, so neither of them would have a problem running through a battlefield. If you take one of the dogs, Duncan, and we take the other, then if either of our parties runs into trouble, we can let the other group know about it by sending our dog to them."

"Agreed. The dogs could be useful to us," Duncan replied. "Now prepare yourselves, both of you. There is little time." Duncan's tone was severe, leaving no room for debate.

So, without any further argument, Alistair positioned himself by the fire and made sure all of his supplies were in order, looking up occasionally to see Bena across the way doing the same.

Shortly thereafter, Bryon returned and asked his sister to speak with him privately. He led her to the edge of the camp, out of earshot for Alistair, and the two of them talked until Duncan informed everyone that it was time for Alistair and the Couslands to set out for the Tower. The twins hugged before rejoining the others at the fire, and Alistair found himself remembering how not more than an hour ago Bena had leaned into him, seeking _his_ embrace. The skin of her cheek had been warm and soft, as he had wiped one of her tears away. And her hair had still had a lingering scent of roses to it.

_Stalker!_ His mind jeered at him, bringing him back to reality.

Duncan gave a few final instructions to the Wardens, telling them to trust their instincts when fighting the darkspawn and reminding them to stay vigilant. Duncan then clasped forearms with Alistair and wished him luck before each group went its separate way. Astor stayed with Duncan's party, and Lux accompanied Alistair and the twins.

It was nearly a half-mile-long trek to reach the bridge that led to the Tower. Fortifications had been set up there in case the darkspawn attempted any sort of flanking maneuver. Alistair had thought those defenses would be unnecessary given the direct approach that darkspawn usually took in combat. He realized he had been mistaken, though, as they could see flames and hear yelling upon nearing the bridge.

"What the hell is this?" Bryon asked when they reached the crossing point. The darkspawn were firing bows and catapults against the soldiers defending the bridge, and more could also be seen fighting Fereldens across the gorge—directly on their path to the Tower. "I didn't think we were supposed to run into this much resistance here. Weren't Loghain's men supposed to be keeping an eye out for this sort of thing?"

Alistair nodded, puzzled by the same thoughts that Bryon had just voiced. It didn't make sense—Loghain was supposed to be watching this area, keeping it secure. How could he have missed the darkspawn bringing in archers and catapults?

"Perhaps we should split up," Bena said. "Someone needs to let Duncan and the king know about this, and it's not as if Lux can deliver such a complex message for us. The two of you should go back to the front, and I'll go the rest of the way to the Tower on my own. I'd be able to make it up to the beacon and back to the battle faster than either of you two could in heavy armor."

"There's not a chance in hell of that happening, Ben," Bryon replied. "You may be fast, but I'm not letting you go to that Tower alone only to find out that even more darkspawn are in there."

"You have a better idea?"

"I do actually. Soldier!" Bryon called at the nearest young man on the bridge and pulled him away from the line of fire. "I need you follow this dog to the Grey Wardens at the frontline and inform them of the situation here."

"B-but ser, I'm s-supposed to stay at my p-post," the young man sputtered, obviously terrified by the battle going on around him.

"I'm a Grey Warden, soldier, and I'm ordering you to do this for the good of Ferelden. Now go!"

"Yes, ser!" the young man said with a bit more confidence.

Bryon then turned down to the mabari at their heels. "Bring the others back here for us, Lux. I get the feeling we may be needing their help."

* * *

Amee had a bad feeling as soon as she heard the barking. Somehow she knew it wasn't coming from the Ash Warriors' mabari. She turned around to see Lux charging toward her with a young man following behind him, struggling to keep up.

"Wardens!" the young man yelled, huffing as he stopped in front of them and tried to catch his breath. A thousand thoughts ran through Amee's head as she waited for the youth to speak again. _Why is Lux here so soon? What's gone wrong? What's happened to Bryon?_ Then, before she was able to voice these concerns, Duncan proceeded to question the young man in a much more coherent manner.

"What is it, soldier?" he asked.

"I was at the bridge," the man replied hurriedly. "The bridge leading to the Tower. There were darkspawn attacking us—a lot of them. Then the other Wardens came. They wanted me to come here and tell you."

The young man then went back to breathing heavily, allowing the message he had just relayed to sink in. _At least he didn't say anything had happened to the other Wardens,_ Amee thought, trying to keep calm.

"How strong a force was it?" Duncan inquired.

"Big. They had catapults and everything."

"And were they at the Tower as well?"

"I don't rightly know, ser. It looked like there was a good number of them on the other side of the bridge on the way to the Tower, but I just don't know."

Amee turned to gauge Duncan's reaction to the news. His expression was stern as he looked away from the young man toward the Wilds before them. The brunt of the darkspawn horde had yet to emerge, but Amee had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach—a sensation that the new Warden had found now served as a signal for the approach of those awful creatures.

After a stretch of silence, Duncan finally said, "This does not bode well." He turned around to face the young Wardens and added assertively, "But we cannot let this weaken our resolve. We must stand and face the darkspawn this night, but we must also ensure that we have the greatest chance of success. The beacon must be lit. If Loghain's forces are not summoned, we will not be able to hold the line.

"It seems that the others could use your help. Reach the tower and light the beacon. The more experienced Wardens will stay here with the king's forces, but you four should take the dogs and get to the Tower."

"You have no need of even some of us?" Ellana asked. "We stand ready for battle, Duncan."

"I have no doubt that you all are ready, but I need you to fight another battle. Go now to the Tower, and make haste," Duncan replied.

Amee and the others turned to leave the field, but Duncan grabbed Amee's arm to stop her.

"Should I stay, Duncan?" she asked, wondering if Duncan thought it would be better to have a mage on the frontlines. She wanted to go help the others, but she wouldn't refuse Duncan if he ordered her to stay.

"No, Amee, but I want you take these," Duncan replied, handing her a leather parcel. Amee recognized it immediately—it was where Duncan kept the Warden treaties that they had recovered. "Keep them safe," he said.

Amee took the parcel and stowed it in her pack, promising him as she did so that she would protect the treaties. She added, "May the Maker watch over you, Duncan." She appreciated the sentiment conveyed in the words; she was comforted by the thought of someone keeping an eye on the senior Warden.

"May the Maker watch over us all," Duncan replied solemnly. "Now go."

She turned and caught up with the others while Duncan took position near the king. Amee looked back at him as she and the others picked up speed. She wondered how long this battle would go on and how long it would be before she saw the Warden again.

_

* * *

A/N: The next installment is coming soon…_


	14. Chapter 13 The Tower of Ishal Part 2

_**Author's Note: **_That took a bit longer than expected, but I wanted to work out a few details. Several liberties were taken with this chapter compared to what's in the game. For example, I use potions instead of the poultices used in the game, because a potion (that you would drink) seems to work better in the story than a poultice (that you would rub in). Also, a few changes were made to accommodate the number of Wardens I have.

In addition, there are several instances in this chapter that were inspired by the original Star Wars trilogy and the Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring—I'll let you see if you can spot those without me pointing them out for you.

Finally, I didn't use one of Alistair's classic lines earlier in the story, but I've included it here.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Things were not going well in Alistair's opinion. At every turn, there seemed to be some new kind of impediment blocking them from their objective. They found that the Tower was filled with darkspawn, and each floor they progressed to seemed worse than the last.

Despite this, though, they had managed to recruit the help of an archer named Gisborne and a mage named Mykol. Well, _Bryon and Bena _had managed to recruit them. Alistair had only managed to follow orders. After their return trip from the Wilds and the last hour that they had spent trying to reach the beacon, Alistair came to realize that the few months of experience that he had on the twins in being a Warden couldn't compare to the years of experience that they had on him in leading and persuading others.

And so, once again, Alistair was content to follow, and somehow their party was making it through the grim obstacles in their path.

Or at least they were until Bena returned from scouting ahead.

"We're near the beacon," she said, "_but_ we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Bryon asked.

"The big, mean, ogre variety."

"The five of us can take down an ogre, especially if it's the only thing standing in our way."

"I would agree, but _three _ogres and at least ten more darkspawn surrounding them seem like a problem."

Alistair had to agree. They had done seemingly impossible things in making it this far without any serious injuries. He knew charging into a room filled with ogres and darkspawn would be pushing their luck.

Bryon paused for a moment in thought and then laid out a plan. "We need to lure them out into the hallway to even out the odds. They won't be able to overwhelm us if we do that. They'll be limited to how many of them can fit through the doorframe."

"Unless the ogres knock down the doorframe," Gisborne replied.

"It's a good plan," Bena replied sternly, and Alistair could see that when she and her brother were in agreement on something, they were likely unstoppable. He didn't know who could stand for long in a fight against the pair of them—verbal or physical. From the determination in their eyes, he thought they might even be able to take down the ogres themselves if they put their minds to it.

But they were apparently going to use every resource available to them in this fight. So Bena continued—more persuasively this time, "Besides, you and Mykol can attack from the safety of the far side of the hallway. You won't be forced into the midst of the fighting like we will."

The archer appeared more agreeable to the plan after that, and Bryon began speaking once more, "You all know where you have to be and what we to do. No matter what happens, we need the beacon lit. If you see an opportunity—"

Suddenly Bena's hand shot up in front of her brother's mouth, temporarily silencing him.

"What is it?" he whispered after a moment.

"I heard something, coming from that direction," she replied, also in a hushed tone. She was pointing towards the staircase that they had just taken up to this floor.

Bena, Bryon, and Alistair made ready their weapons and headed toward the staircase. It twisted around in a long, walled spiral, preventing them from seeing what approached.

The sound grew closer, and soon Alistair could hear it as well, although he couldn't make out what it was exactly. He tightened his grip around his sword, prepared for the worst, but then Bena raised her hand again. From the sigh of relief that she breathed and the slight smile that appeared on her face, Alistair realized that whatever was making that noise wasn't a threat.

After another moment passed, the indistinct noise became somewhat clearer, and Alistair recognized it as several grumbling voices. He could only hear brief bits of what was being said, but he soon realized who had to be saying it.

"…insolent nughumper…" came from a deep, yet feminine voice.

"…ruttin', stuck-up outcast…" was part of a reply made by a louder, gruff male.

And finally, "Will you two be quiet!" was said by the familiar voice of an elf-mage, just as the newcomers reached the final curve of the spiral staircase.

Bena stood at the top of the stairs, looking down on the four Wardens and two mabari that had just appeared. "You do realize that, given the amount of noise you all were making, you would have run into serious trouble up here if darkspawn had been waiting for you," she noted, in a somewhat amused tone.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you lot aren't soddin' darkspawn then," Torval replied. "And the noise wasn't my fault," he added.

"Are you sure?" Alistair asked teasingly. "Because you did seem to be the loudest of an already loud bunch."

Alistair couldn't help but be a bit more positive at that moment, knowing that having the other new Wardens with them increased their chances for success. And that thought was suddenly making him more optimistic, which, in turn, brought out his joking tendencies.

"I may have been loud," Torval replied, obviously not sharing Alistair's good mood. "But her worshipfulness is the reason for it," he continued, motioning toward Hildra.

"You said something about darkspawn," the female dwarf said, ignoring Torval's comment. "Did you leave any of them alive for us to kill or did we waste our time coming here?"

"There's plenty for everyone between us and the beacon," Bryon replied. "And now that there's more of us, we should change our tactics." Bryon then explained that with so many of them, a bottleneck would also limit their own effectiveness, and not just their enemies'. If, however, they attacked the ogres in small groups in the top room of the Tower and had the ranged fighters take out the surrounding darkspawn, then they would stand a better chance of defeating the creatures.

"Whatever ya say, kid," Torval said, agreeing to the plan Bryon had just presented.

"Casteless son-of-a-moss-licker," Hildra murmured, loud enough so that only Bena, Alistair, and Ellana could hear her.

"What was that all about, Hil?" Bena asked.

"Nothing," Hildra replied and hesitated before continuing. "It was just that he put a dent in my armor with the hilt of his dagger!"

"Why did he do that?" Bena asked, with concern in her voice.

"Because I punched him."

"What? Why?" Bena asked, surprised.

"Because he insulted my armor. He said I shouldn't wear noble, fanciful armor, but that I should wear the more practical kind instead, because it would draw the attention of fewer darkspawn. I told him I could face a bronto in this armor, and then that degenerate had the nerve to say that I looked like a bronto in this armor. So, naturally, after that comment, I punched him. And apparently that duster doesn't know his place, because he got back up and took a cheap swing at my armor. But enough chatting about this, let's go do what we came here to do and kill darkspawn."

Hildra walked down the hall where the others were heading, but Bena took a moment to shake her head in disbelief at their dwarven companions' interaction.

"'Tis true," Ellana said to Bena and Alistair. "Amee and I had to forcibly separate them lest they tear each other apart before we reached you."

Alistair knew that now would be a good time to be serious, given the dangers they were facing, but he couldn't help himself. After hearing the story about Hildra and Torval, he said, "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

Ellana just looked at him quizzically and then turned to follow the others. But Bena—she was laughing, and that sound made Alistair grin like an idiot, no matter what dangers lay ahead.

The grin faded, though, as soon as they reached the door to the top floor and divided up their forces. The mages and archers would stay near the entrance, taking whatever cover they could find. Once they'd taken out the darkspawn, they were told to help the others take down the ogres. Alistair and Hildra would take on the ogre on the right, Torval and the dogs would handle the one on the left, and Bryon and Bena would face the one in the center.

When they opened the door, the ranged fighters unleashed a barrage of fire, lightning, and arrows. The commotion distracted the ogres so that the creatures didn't notice the others approach until they were already poised to attack.

With his first swing, Bryon had stunned the center ogre. Then, he knelt down on one knee and lifted his shield above his head. Alistair could see this from the corner of his eye, and he couldn't help but turn his attention away from his own opponent to see what Bryon could possibly be doing. In the next instant, he understood. Bena ran straight towards her brother, jumped on his shield, and landed on the ogre's shoulder, supporting herself by grabbing one of the horns jutting from its head.

The center ogre was apparently awakened by the impact, and began swinging his arms violently at the nuisance on his shoulder. But Bena was too fast. She swung downward and drove her dagger into its neck before slicing open its throat. The ogre swayed and then toppled to the ground. Bena managed to roll down gracefully, and her brother helped her up.

Alistair released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding once he saw that Bena was safe. But suddenly, all of the air rushed out of him, as a giant hand gripped him and threw him against a wall. In the next second, he was on the ground, and a wooden table was being hurled towards him. It landed atop his legs with a sickening crack.

His vision was blurry for a while after that, but when it finally cleared, he could see Bena and Hildra taking down the ogre that had injured him, and it looked as if Bryon, Torval, and the dogs had already felled the third. He then saw Amee running across the room toward the beacon, which she lit ablaze with an arcane bolt.

Amee went to the window after that, and Alistair hoped for a favorable report—that Loghain's men were moving in to support the rest of the army and the Wardens. All Alistair heard, though, was the elf-mage say, "Something's wrong."

Bryon joined her at the window. Alistair could hear curses coming from the young man.

"What is it?" Hildra asked, after the final ogre lay crumpled upon the floor.

"It's that bastard Loghain," Bryon began angrily, "He's retreating."

Alistair was in a state of disbelief that quickly changed into a state of fury. He wanted to shove the table off of himself, find Loghain, and make him pay for not doing his part in the king's plan. Without Loghain's reinforcements, Alistair knew that the Wardens would stand little chance against the horde. By retreating, Loghain was condemning Duncan and the others to death.

Alistair pushed against the table, but every movement sent a fiery pain shooting through his left leg. He looked up and saw Bena surveying the room. She finally seemed to spot him amongst the debris in the ruined tower and began to move toward him.

In the middle of the room, though, she suddenly froze. "Do you feel that?" she asked everyone in the room, with a worried look entering her eyes. All of the Wardens seemed to be reacting similarly, and, in the pit of his stomach, Alistair knew why. A large group of darkspawn was close now—probably at the top of the spiral staircase where Alistair had just been making jokes only minutes before.

It was too large a force, from what Alistair could sense. He doubted that they would survive it. The archer and mage that had joined them also seemed to dislike their odds for survival upon hearing that more darkspawn approached, but the other Wardens apparently weren't interested in sharing this hopelessness. Ellana and Torval moved to barricade the door, while Amee, Hildra, and Bryon came up behind them, readying themselves for whatever might burst through.

And it all happened so quickly.

The doors eventually caved in to the pressure from the darkspawn forces. For a time, the Wardens and the dogs managed to keep their opponents near the doorway, but some of the darkspawn managed to break away. An archer was among them, who appeared to be aiming for ranged fighters. Since Ellana and Amee were fighting in close combat at that moment, the darkspawn archer went for Gisborne and Mykol, who were soon both struck down with arrows.

The darkspawn archer then went for whomever it could find. It tried to aim for the dogs, but it soon spotted Alistair, who was a much easier target. Alistair again tried to wriggle free, but it was no use. The darkspawn was taking aim, and part of Alistair wanted to be hit. This nightmare would end that way, and Alistair wouldn't have to live with the guilt of failing Duncan.

The darkspawn let its arrow fly, and Alistair closed his eyes, waiting to be impaled—but nothing happened. After a few moments, he opened his eyes to see Bena above him. She was breathing heavily, as if she'd just run across the room, and she held an arrow in her hand, barely a foot from Alistair's face.

"Don't scare me like that, Alistair, by just waiting to die," she said to him, sounding almost frustrated, and oddly enough, in that instant, Alistair felt like a new man.

Duncan might be lost to him in the battle below, but there was still someone who cared whether he lived or died. He felt renewed, as an unfamiliar, yet pleasant, warmth crept into his soul. He looked and saw that one of the dogs had taken down the archer that had shot at him, and the others were keeping the rest of the darkspawn at bay, using a bit of Bryon's earlier bottleneck plan.

Alistair once again tried to lift the table from his legs, and Bena tossed aside the arrow and moved in to help him. With her added strength, they managed to free him.

"That wasn't so difficult," she said. "Now, take this potion for your leg."

He looked up at her, took the potion, kept her hand, and smiled at her in spite of the attack still going on and in spite of the unbearable pain in his leg. She smiled back, and the heat returned, stronger and lower in his body this time. He wondered for a moment if it would be foolish to pull her down to him and kiss her, if only just briefly. He wondered if he would be any good at kissing. He wondered if she would kiss him back.

But suddenly he stopped wondering these thoughts, as his world was shattered once more. An arrow had pierced through Bena's chest, just below her right collarbone, and she fell to her knees from the force of it.

"No!" Alistair screamed, just before Amee fired an arcane bolt at the second darkspawn archer that had managed to slip by them.

Alistair crawled to Bena and caught her before she fell backwards, careful to avoid moving the arrow and hurting her further. She was going in and out of consciousness in his arms, when he realized that the potion was still in his hand. For it to have any effect on her wound, the arrow needed to be removed. Knowing this, Alistair broke off the tail end of the arrow's shaft, so he could pull it out without widening the injury. He winced every time she inhaled sharply, indicating that she was in pain. Once he had the arrow out, Alistair quickly uncorked the bottle and poured its contents into her mouth, somehow encouraging her to drink.

It didn't seem to be working, though, and it was suddenly becoming difficult for Alistair to move. Everything was slowing down, and it was an incredible challenge for Alistair to keep his eyes open. He looked up at the others, and everyone appeared to be stumbling to the ground—Wardens and darkspawn alike. Despite his best efforts to stay awake—to stay with Bena—everything he tried proved useless. Alistair quickly succumbed to the darkness of sleep, with Bena still in his arms.

* * *

Amee was awakened from what felt like a month-long sleep by something cool and damp being pressed against her forehead and cheek. She opened her eyes to see the vast sky above her, lined with the first hints of an approaching dawn. She also saw someone familiar kneeling over her, bringing a refreshing cloth to her face.

"Bryon," she whispered, as she more fully regained consciousness.

A strained smile came upon his face as soon as she spoke. "Thank the Maker you're awake," Bryon said, setting down the cloth. Closing his eyes, he took one of her hands in his and kissed it firmly.

Amee could see in his face that something was wrong. He looked almost heartbroken. "What is it? What's happened?" she asked, sitting up but letting Bryon keep hold of her hand.

He opened his eyes and looked at her solemnly before saying, "It appears we were right about what Loghain was doing—he retreated from the field, leaving the king, the Wardens, and countless soldiers of Ferelden to the mercy of the darkspawn. The same mercy we would have been left to had Morrigan and her mother Flemeth not arrived when they did."

"Flemeth? That's Morrigan's mother?" Amee asked, recognizing the name from a tale about an infamous apostate that she had heard at the Circle. "Is she _the_ Flemeth—the Flemeth of legend?"

"I don't know," Bryon replied. "All I know is that she and Morrigan arrived at the top of the Tower, put everyone to sleep—including the darkspawn, and then used their telekinetic abilities to bring us here. Since then, they've been working to heal us, and they've also had some of us get additional rest to recover from our injuries. But…" Bryon's voice then trailed off, and he looked away from Amee.

"But what, Bryon?"

"But they haven't been able to heal all of us entirely. The other mage and the Tower guard that joined us—both of them were struck with arrows coated in a deadly poison. The poison isn't something that the witches can heal. They've tried herbal remedies too, but…but it doesn't look good. And Bena—she was…she was struck by one of the arrows as well."

"Oh, Bryon," Amee replied sorrowfully, placing her free hand upon his cheek. She then hesitated for a moment, caught between wanting to help and fearing what would happen if she did so. She shuddered at the thought of feeling someone die while she was trying to heal that person, but seeing the pain in Bryon's face, she couldn't help but offer, "Can I do something, Bryon? Take me to them—I can try to heal them."

"No, Amee," he said firmly. "I'm not asking you to go through that."

"But, Bryon, if it could help—"

"I don't think it would, Amee. Flemeth has shown how powerful her healing abilities are. She's managed to heal all of our party's other injuries, no matter how severe, but her magic is useless in this case. She says all we can do is wait and see. If they're meant to survive this, they will."

Both Bryon and Amee then turned as they heard the door to the hut open behind them. Looking up, Amee could see that Torval, Hildra, and Ellana were nearby at her left, all facing the door from where they sat. Torval too appeared as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep, the grogginess still apparent in his eyes. Amee then spotted a patch of short, blonde hair hidden behind the high marsh grass off to her far right that indicated Alistair's location. His head was turned away and hung low, unaffected by the opening door.

The dogs were close to Amee and Bryon, and while they seemed depressed, their heads perked up as Morrigan exited the hut with her arm extended out in front of her. Underneath her hand, she telekinetically carried the body of the other mage. At that sight, the dogs once more rested their heads upon their forelegs, looking dejected.

Morrigan was making her way around to the other side of the hut when she noticed the others watching her. In response to their expectant stares, she said, "This one did not survive. I was going to dispose of the body."

"We'll do that," Hildra said. "He fought alongside us. We owe him a proper sendoff."

"Very well," Morrigan replied. "So long as you take care in this matter. Mother would not appreciate it if his remains were dealt with poorly and suddenly were to begin drawing all manner of creatures to her doorstep."

"We'll be careful," Hildra replied, standing. She then looked to the sluggish Torval and kicked him. "Get moving, oaf. It's time to make yourself useful."

"Yes, your worshipfulness," Torval replied sardonically, although he became more somber as he approached Mykol's body.

Once the dwarves and Ellana had taken charge of the lifeless figure, Morrigan turned to go back into the hut. Bryon stood up and grabbed her arm, though, stopping her.

"What of the others?" he demanded.

Morrigan looked offended by Bryon's boldness. In response to his question, she glared at him and then replied ominously, "'Tis too soon to tell."

"May we see them?"

Jerking her arm free from his grip, Morrigan replied with a harshness to her tone, "As mother and I have said before, they stand the best chance of survival with as few disturbances as possible."

Bryon cast his gaze downward. Amee could clearly see the anger and sorrow lining his features.

The witch seemed to notice his state as well. She then asked more civilly, "The girl is your sister, is she not?"

Bryon looked up and simply nodded at her.

"Very well," Morrigan stated. "If the end is approaching, we will permit you to see her, but not before."

"Thank you," Bryon replied sincerely, and Morrigan looked taken aback by those two words. With her brow furrowed, she turned around and retreated into the hut, closing the door swiftly behind her.

Amee stood as Bryon turned back toward her. She put her hand once again upon his cheek and said, "She'll make it through this, Bryon. She's a fighter. She won't give up."

He brought his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace, seeming to take greater comfort the closer he held her. He nuzzled his face against her hair for a few moments until he whispered, his voice filled with desperation, "I hope you're right."

Amee didn't know how long he continued to hold her like that, nor did she care. She wanted to be there for him as long as he needed her and not a moment less.

_

* * *

A/N: As always, thanks for reading!_


	15. Chapter 14 Plans

_**Author's Note: **_My apologies for taking so long to update this story. I've been wrapped up in work, but I never wanted to abandon this. I'm hoping I'll be able to post updates more frequently in the future.

As always, thanks for reading!

* * *

When Bena awoke, she thought she was still in one of her nightmares. A pair of dead eyes stared at her from within a pale, ghostly face. She gasped and sat up at the sight.

She then heard a feminine voice from behind her, "So I see that you have finally decided to rejoin the living." The voice made Bena shrug off the last remnants of her prior unconsciousness and return to reality. She quickly surveyed her surroundings and realized that she was on the floor of a musty hut. To her dismay, Bena also noticed that she was only wearing her linen shift and smallclothes. She hastily grabbed at the blankets of the bedroll beneath her to cover up her nakedness.

The voice chuckled at this. "Fear not, young one," the woman said, as Bena turned to see that the voice belonged to Morrigan. "Neither my mother nor I have any deviant interests in female creatures. We merely removed your clothing to more easily treat your wounds. Your virtue remains intact."

From the sly grin on her face, Morrigan still seemed amused, as she walked over to Bena and handed her a mug of hot tea. "Drink this. 'Tis a good remedy for restoring one's strength."

Despite the soothing aroma rising from the mug in her hands, Bena still felt an overwhelming sense of confusion. She had no idea how she had come to be on that floor with a dead man beside her and a witch smiling down at her, giving her tea. The last thing she remembered was fighting darkspawn at the Tower. She looked down at the man, whom she recognized as the archer Gisborne, and then back up to Morrigan. She shook her head and somehow managed to put two coherent words together: "What happened?"

Morrigan then covered the archer's body with a sheet and explained to Bena about Loghain's retreat, the poisoned arrow, and the witches' rescue of the Grey Wardens. The other Wardens had recovered quickly, but Bena apparently had been asleep for over a day. The mage Mykol had died the previous morning, and Gisborne had passed away within the last hour.

"How did I survive?" Bena asked.

"Mother does not know. She says the poison was a rare and deadly concoction, known as the 'Kiss of Death,' and that few, if any, have lived to tell the tale after encountering it. In addition to its lethal properties, the poison contains a powerful sleep-inducing ingredient that renders its victims unconscious and, therefore, unable to procure any antidote to its effects. 'Tis said that only a person's strength will determine whether one shall live or die from the kiss."

"Oh," Bena replied, uncertain of how to respond. She didn't feel particularly strong at the moment. In fact, she felt weak and vulnerable as she sat, exposed upon the floor. Her shoulder was also incredibly sore. It was still wrapped in bandages, and Morrigan had informed her that she would have a scar from the wound.

"Mother thought perhaps your being a Grey Warden played some part in your survival." That seemed plausible to Bena—she was the only Grey Warden struck by an arrow and the only one to survive the injury. Morrigan continued with another possibility, "She also wondered if perchance you drank a health potion of some sort just prior to your injury. She believed that such a thing might have aided you."

Bena didn't remember drinking anything before she was hit. She remembered seeing a darkspawn archer with its bow aimed at Alistair. She also recalled telling Lux to take care of that archer while she went to help the fallen templar. She had thought everything had gone smoothly—Lux took down the archer, she caught the arrow, and Alistair was freed from under the table. Then there was darkness. The only potion she could remember was the one she had given to Alistair for his leg.

_Did he drink it? Did he give it to me instead? _Bena wondered. She wanted to ask him. She wanted to talk to all of them, to see for herself that they were all alive and well.

"Where are the others, Morrigan?" she asked.

"Your fellow Wardens have taken up residence outside. We could not have them in here, disturbing you during your recovery. They seemed quite upset about the death of the mage, and I did not care to think how they would have acted if we had allowed them in here to watch one or both of you die. 'Tis safe, I suppose, to tell them of this man's death, now that we can share with them some good news as well."

Morrigan smiled at her last words, and Bena found herself surprised by the woman. She was not what Bena would have expected an apostate to be like. Morrigan did not seem evil, yet she spoke of a man's death with an almost amused tone to her voice. Then again, she had saved Bena's life and the lives of the other Wardens. For that, Bena was grateful—and willing to put up with the witch's dark humor.

"Thank you, Morrigan, for everything," Bena said sincerely.

Morrigan looked taken aback by Bena's words. "I…you're welcome, though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer." The witch paused, seeming to recover from her surprise, and her voice regained its earlier edge. "'Twould be best if you dressed now. No doubt your friends will want to see for themselves that you are alive. Some of them—the blonde one in particular—are behaving so childishly that I do not think they would believe me if I told them that you lived. Your armor is on that chair." Morrigan pointed to a chair in the corner. "Finish your tea before you go, though," she added before excusing herself and retreating into another room.

Bena drank down the tea and then made her way over to the chair, still wrapped in the blanket. Dressing herself proved to be awkward. Her shoulder ached every time she stretched just a little too far, and the thought of a dead man in the room with her gave her the chills. She put on her armor as quickly as possible and felt a surge of relief as she opened the door and breathed in the fresh air outside.

Bena spotted her brother first. He was standing a few yards in front of the hut, with his back turned towards her. Bena was glad to see that he appeared all right, but she wondered why he was just standing there, staring off into the distant swampland when she heard loud squabbling to her left.

Bena looked in that direction and saw Hildra, Torval, Amee, and Ellana arguing about something. She decided not to enter into that conversation just yet, but instead, went to speak to her brother.

"Bryon," she muttered quietly behind him, causing him to spin around on the spot. Gingerly, he placed his hands on her arms and took in the sight of her from head to toe, as if checking to make sure that she was real and whole. After a moment, Bryon pulled his sister into his arms and embraced her tightly. Bena could tell that he had seen the bandages around her shoulder, which were visible even with her armor on, because he was careful not to grip her there.

He let out a sigh of relief, then said, "Never do that to me again."

"Do what exactly?" Bena asked, somewhat playfully, feeling safer in her brother's presence.

Bryon pulled back from her to look her in the eye. "Never let yourself be nearly killed because you're off trying to save some bloody idiot."

"Does that mean I shouldn't try to save you the next time you're being an idiot?"

"When have I ever—"

"There was that time when we six down by the shore, then that time when we were nine and we went on the hunt with father, and then when we were ten—"

"Fine. You win. I surrender. Just promise me you'll use discretion when deciding which idiots to save," Bryon said with a smile.

"I promise," Bena replied, smiling back until the arguments of her companions once again reached her ears. A look of seriousness returned to her face as she asked, "What's going on? Why are the others fighting and why aren't you or Alistair doing something about it?"

"The others are fighting about where we should go next," Bryon answered, looking toward the group of elves and dwarves. "Duncan gave Amee the Warden treaties. They should allow us to call upon the dwarves, the Circle mages, and the Dalish for aid during a Blight, but each of our companions seems to have their own opinion on where we should go from here. They have ties to the different peoples that made those treaties, and they're all ready to go their separate ways to see that the treaties are honored. I have a different opinion on the matter, but I wasn't going to argue with the others about my ideas until…" Bryon paused, turning his gaze back to his sister and taking hold of her hand. "Until I knew…"

He looked down at their joined hands, and Bena squeezed her brother's hand to reassure him. She didn't want him to feel any more pain than what they had already been through, and she most certainly did not want to be the cause of it. Her tightening grip seemed to help Bryon. Bena could see that his expression was less somber when he lifted his eyes back up to hers.

"As for Alistair," Bryon continued, looking off in the distance toward Bena's right, "the senior Warden has been moping over there nearly the entire time we've been here. And the rest of the time, he's been calling our hosts sneaky apostates, among other things."

"He was trained as a templar, Bryon. It's not surprising that he doesn't trust Morrigan or her mother. And besides, he did just lose everyone close to him—that's reason enough for the way he's acting."

"Yes, and he's the reason I nearly lost you."

"Bryon, it wasn't his fault. If you want to blame someone, blame the darkspawn or Loghain or Howe, for that matter. Don't blame someone on our side. Right now, we all need to be working together."

Bryon looked back toward the others as they continued their argument. "My thoughts exactly," he said.

"Good," Bena replied. "Now that we're in agreement, why don't you see if you can calm them down and I'll see if the templar is willing to join us?"

Bryon nodded and squeezed Bena's hand one last time before heading towards the others. Bena turned to her right and glimpsed the back of Alistair's head among the tall grass of the swamplands. He was too far off to have heard the twins' conversation, and given how he had his head hung low, Bena wondered how much he was even paying attention to his surroundings.

Bena was usually quite good at sneaking up on people, but not wanting to startle the templar, she intentionally stepped on a twig when she was less than ten feet from him.

Alistair raised his head slightly at that but otherwise didn't move from where he sat. He merely grumbled, "If you're here to give me more bad news, then just go away."

"I'm sorry, Alistair, I have no intention of going away, but I don't know if I have any good news."

Once she had spoken, Alistair's head bolted upright. He quickly turned around and stood to face her. "You are," he said suddenly, staring at her.

"'I am…?'" Bena asked, trying to get at his meaning.

"You are good news," he replied, but then—as soon as the words were spoken—his focused gaze faltered and he looked to the ground. "I mean it's good news that you're alive. We didn't need to lose another Warden." He looked back up her, running his fingers back through his hair, as if nervous.

"Right, well, no doubt with what lies ahead of us, we can use every Warden there is," Bena said smiling.

Alistair smiled back until his eyes fell to her shoulder. "You're still hurt," he said with concern in his voice. He stepped toward her and lightly touched her injured arm. "I'm so sorry."

Bena didn't want Alistair to be apologizing, but at the same time, she didn't want to give him a reason to pull away from her. She felt a strange fire when his ungloved fingers moved along her bare arm. His touch was warm and comforting, just as his embrace had been after she had learned of Fergus' death. And now, she felt a growing intensity at his touch—something that drew her to him. For her entire life, she had been taught to suppress such feelings; they were signs that she was being disobedient to her father and dishonorable to her betrothed. But now her father was gone and her betrothed's family was to blame for her loss. And Alistair…

He continued speaking softly to her, distracting her from her thoughts by asking, "Is it painful?" His voice was fragile, as if Bena might break him with the wrong answer. Although his eyes were still looking down at her bandages, she could see the loss within them, and she wanted to comfort him as he had tried to comfort her over the last few days.

"Hardly," she replied, trying to sound reassuring. "It's a bit sore, but Morrigan says it should be fine within a matter of days."

"I'm sor—"

"Don't apologize, Alistair," Bena said, stopping him. There was still one thing she wanted to ask of him. "When we were in the Tower, did you give me a health potion?"

His eyes met hers, and Bena could see worry in them. "Yes, I did, although it didn't seem to help much. Why?" he asked, timidly.

"Because, in that case, I should be thanking you rather than letting you continue to apologize," Bena replied. "Morrigan and her mother believe that a health potion taken near the time of my injury may have saved my life."

"You see," an older woman's voice interrupted before Alistair could respond. The sound caused him to drop his hand from Bena's arm, but she was glad to see that he at least did not pull away from her entirely. He stayed close to her, and his sad demeanor seemed to be replaced by one that looked ready for a possible fight. In a way, she thought his stance seemed almost protective, but she wondered if she was simply imagining it. She thought that Alistair might just be acting defensively around an apostate.

The older woman, whom Bena recognized to be Morrigan's mother, continued speaking as she approached the two Wardens. "Here is your friend now," she said motioning toward Bena. "I was not lying when I said no harm would come to her under my care, nor when I said you worry too much."

"I only worry this much when the infamous witch Flemeth is keeping a friend of mine locked away in a hut," Alistair replied bitingly.

"Alistair!" Bena said to the templar in a quiet and scolding manner. She then turned back to Flemeth and said, "Thank you for all that you have done for us."

"I could not allow all of the Grey Wardens to perish," Flemeth replied, ignoring Alistair. "It is your duty to unite the people of this land and end the Blight. Now I suggest you rejoin your companions, who seem to be working toward that end."

Bena gave a formal nod to the older woman and then led Alistair by the elbow toward the others.

"Bena!" Amee yelled, as the mage spotted Bena approaching with Alistair in tow. Once Bena had let go of Alistair's elbow, Amee flung her arms around Bena and hugged her tightly. To Bena's surprise, this action was not as painful as she thought it would be. The ache in her shoulder was becoming duller, and Bena assumed that Morrigan's tea must have finally taken effect.

"How are you feeling?" the elf mage asked.

"Better actually," Bena replied. Looking around at the other Wardens, she asked, "So, what have we decided to do?"

"We're going to remain together for the time being," Bryon replied with a commanding tone in his voice. "Lothering is the nearest settlement. We'll head there first, gather supplies, and perhaps find out what excuses Loghain has been making to explain what happened at Ostagar. From there, we'll start visiting the peoples that made treaties with the Wardens. The Circle Tower and the Brecilian Forest are the closest to Lothering, so we may want to begin with one of those locations."

"If I may make a suggestion," Alistair piped in, sounding somewhat sheepish.

"Yes, Alistair?" Bena asked, trying to look and sound as encouraging as possible.

Alistair's gaze had met hers, and that seemed to help steady the templar's voice. "I was just thinking that we might want to consider going to Redcliffe as well. I think Arl Eamon would be willing to help us."

"We can't be certain about that, Alistair," Bryon replied. "We don't know who might have been complicit in Loghain's betrayal of the king. For all we know, Loghain might have been planning this for some time now and, if that's the case, who knows how many nobles he recruited into his scheme."

"But you don't really think that Eamon would betray the king, do you?" Alistair asked, sounding defensive. "Eamon was Cailan's uncle, and he's a good man."

"Loghain was Cailan's father-in-law and Hero of the River Dane, but he still proved himself a traitor," Bryon replied coolly. "Besides, Eamon was very conveniently absent from the slaughter at Ostagar."

"So was Father," Bena interjected quickly, causing Bryon to turn towards her.

"Father was murdered, Bena. It's not the same—"

"But it could very well be the same," Bena replied. "Father was a known supporter of the Theirin throne, and he was prevented from ever reaching Ostagar."

"Yes, because _Arl Howe _killed him."

"You're right, Bryon, and you could also be right about Loghain recruiting nobles to his cause. Arl Howe could very well be working with Loghain. But Eamon—I don't think we should pass judgment on him until we know more about why he wasn't at Ostagar."

"Fine," Bryon replied. "We'll find out what we can about Eamon once were out of the Wilds, but we won't go to Redcliffe without more information. I know it would be helpful to have someone of Eamon's rank on our side during this fight, but I'm not going to lead us into unnecessary danger. Agreed?"

Bena and the others gave their assent and then made preparations for their departure. After the Wardens had buried Gisborne and gathered their equipment, Flemeth approached them. "So you are set, then?" the witch asked. "Ready to be Grey Wardens?"

Bena spoke up, "Yes, Flemeth. Thank you again for your help."

"Do not mention it. In fact, I have one more thing to offer."

At that moment, Morrigan appeared from inside the hut and approached the group. "The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Shall we have guests for the eve or none?"

"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them."

"Such a shame—what?" Morrigan uttered as the realization of what Flemeth had said appeared to sink in.

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked you had ears," Flemeth replied, followed by a somewhat mean cackle.

Seeing the angered look that rose in Morrigan's eye at her mother's comment, Bena tried to placate the young witch by saying, "Thank you, but if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us—"

"Her magic will be useful," Flemeth interrupted. "Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde."

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan asked.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance. As for you Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

Bena hesitated when she saw a flicker of something in Morrigan's features. When Flemeth had looked away from her daughter toward the Wardens, informing them that they were obliged to take Morrigan, Bena could have sworn that she saw a smirk briefly creep upon the younger witch's face. Bena wasn't certain of what Morrigan was playing at, but the knowledge that the young witch had thus far been helpful to them overruled the concern she felt.

"We would be grateful for Morrigan's help," Bena said.

"We would?" Alistair asked. "I mean, outside these woods, she's an apostate. Her presence in our party could cause us trouble."

"And what chance would a buffoon such as yourself have of making it outside these woods without my assistance?" Morrigan retorted.

"There's no need for insults," Bena interjected. "But yes, we could use your help in navigating the Wilds and beyond that in ending this Blight."

"Very well, then, 'tis agreed that I shall join you," Morrigan replied. Looking directly at Bena, she added, "I am at least glad to see that I shall not be completely surrounded by idiots for this little adventure."

Bena smiled at the witch, although she could feel Alistair tense beside her. Once Morrigan had collected her belongings and said her goodbyes to Flemeth, the party set out for Lothering.

* * *

Morrigan walked alone at the front of the party as she led the others through the Wilds. She felt quite pleased with herself as she reflected upon what had just transpired.

Everything was going according to her plan. Her mother was unaware of just how much Morrigan knew about the old witch's secrets and how much Morrigan actually wanted to go with the Wardens. It also seemed as if everyone had believed her act that she would miss her shack of a home and her conniving mother when, in fact, she was glad to be putting it all behind her.

Morrigan had bigger plans beyond her mother's schemes, and the Wardens were a key component to accomplishing her goals. She just had to keep them oblivious of that fact until it was too late for them. She would make them play the game her way or else face unbearable consequences. The leverage she could use on them had become all too clear as she had seen how they cared for one another and worried over potential losses. The corner of Morrigan's mouth tilted upward. This was going to be far too easy.


	16. Chapter 15 Revelations

_**Author's note: **_This chapter is to better tie Loghain and Howe's actions to my plot, given that I've taken a few liberties with the game's storyline. I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading! And thanks for all the recent reviews!

* * *

The Wardens made camp for the night when they were still a few hours away from Lothering. Like the days Alistair had spent at Flemeth's hut, the trip thus far had been a fog to him. He still couldn't believe that his fellow Wardens were gone—especially Duncan. He had caught himself with his head cast downward several times as they traveled, and had narrowly missed a few low branches along the path. He knew he should have been paying more attention, but when thoughts of the lost Wardens would enter his mind, he felt overcome by sorrow.

Alistair's focus only seemed to return when Bena would occasionally walk beside him. She asked him about Duncan and the others, and speaking of them seemed to help ease his sadness. Whenever his gaze met hers, he took comfort in the sympathy and understanding he could see in her eyes. He was indescribably glad that she had survived but still felt incredibly guilty that his carelessness had put her life in jeopardy to begin with. Since nearly losing her, Alistair felt a determination to prevent any further harm from befalling Bena.

She didn't seem to be making his task easy, though.

Alistair's mind completely cleared of any haze when Bena made her way—_alone—_to Morrigan's tent to bring the witch dinner. His eyes never left the young woman as she spoke with the apostate.

"You think she could have at least taken one of you two with her," Alistair muttered softly to the dogs, who whined in response. They had taken up a spot near him so that they too could watch their mistress. Bena had apparently left them behind because Morrigan didn't care for the animals. Alistair thought it funny, as he scratched the dogs behind the ears, that the witch's dislike of the mabari had made him like them all the more.

After a few more aggravating minutes of looking toward Morrigan's tent, Alistair soon found himself breathing easier as Bena began to make her way back to the campfire. She dished out a bowl of stew for herself then took a seat next to her brother. As the twins began talking intently, Alistair went to grab his own dinner. Closer to the fire, he could overhear their conversation.

"It still doesn't make sense," he could hear Bryon say.

"What doesn't make sense?" Alistair asked reflexively. He didn't want to seem rude for eavesdropping, but he also wanted to stay informed of any possible threats. If the witch had said or done something that had raised Bena's suspicions, he wanted to know.

"We were just talking about Arl Howe," Bryon replied coolly.

"And how his betrayal was nearly simultaneous to Loghain's," Bena added, looking up at Alistair.

"Didn't you think that Howe might have been working with Loghain? Wouldn't that explain the timing of their betrayals?" Alistair asked.

"Yes," Bryon replied, "but the implications of that are the perplexing part."

When Alistair and the other Wardens who were now listening gave the twins quizzical looks, Bena began to explain. "Howe's attack was carefully orchestrated, as if he'd been planning it for some time. However, Howe's not foolish—"

Bryon scoffed at that. "The man is a complete idiot," he spat. "And a traitor, and a coward, and the next time I see him, he's a dead man."

"I suppose I should clarify," Bena continued. "Howe's not foolish when it comes to risking his own neck. He wouldn't have made plans to attack Highever unless he believed he could get away with it, and the only way he could have done that would have been if he had the support of someone of a higher rank."

"It wouldn't have been Cailan, given his friendship with our family and the fact that the only scheming that took place during his reign was done by his advisors," Bryon added.

"That leaves Loghain as Howe's most logical choice for an ally. He has the title to help Howe, and he apparently does have a traitorous side to his nature," Bena said.

"And that brings us to the confusing part," Bryon continued, with all of the Wardens' attentions rapt. "Why would Loghain do any of this? His daughter was married to Cailan—that left him at the right hand of an easily manipulated king. What did he stand to gain?"

Alistair suddenly saw a look of realization and concern appear on Bena's face. He continued to listen to Bryon but kept his eyes on Bena as she stood and went to retrieve something from her pack. From across the campfire, it looked like a sealed letter. Bena hastily opened it and began reading its contents.

Not wanting to seem as if he were invading her privacy, Alistair turned his focus back to Bryon, who was saying, "With Anora as queen, Loghain's position was secure. For him to risk his power like this just to remove Cailan or just to help Howe—there's no reason behind it."

"Unless Anora wasn't going to be queen for much longer," Bena said, her eyes transfixed on the parchment before her. She began shaking her head and added, "That bloody idiot!"

"Ben?" Bryon asked with concern in his voice. He stood and walked over to his sister. When he reached her, Bena handed him the letter.

"It looks like Cailan had started making plans of his own behind Loghain's back," Bena said, as her brother read the letter.

"When did he give you this?" Bryon asked, sounding angry.

"Before the battle," Bena replied. "He told me to read it and then go back to see him once we had defeated the darkspawn."

"That bastard!" Bryon spat. "Did he really think that a Cousland would stand for this kind of treatment?"

Alistair could take the suspense no longer. He had to know what Cailan had written to Bena. "What is it?" he asked.

"This was a king propositioning my sister!" Bryon shouted. At the young nobleman's words, Alistair felt he would have punched Cailan had he been there, despite the fact that Cailan had been the king of Ferelden and Alistair's older brother.

"Bryon!" Bena uttered, reproving her brother's bluntness.

"What, Ben? He was asking you to let him try to father a child with you, and only if you conceived would he even acknowledge what he'd done to you."

"I take it bein' chosen to be the mistress of royalty ain't entirely a compliment among you topsiders," Torval interjected.

"Not when it causes as much trouble as this," Bena replied gravely. "In the letter, Cailan said that he'd spoken with his advisors about finding a wife that could give him an heir. My guess is that Loghain wasn't one of those advisors but that he still managed to find out about this."

"If Loghain knew about Cailan's plan to dispose of Anora, I'm not surprised that he was willing to let his son-in-law perish at Ostagar," Amee added.

"Or willing to let Howe invade Highever," Bena said, with a deepening sadness to her voice.

"But if this was all Cailan's idea, why attack Highever?" Alistair asked, hating to see Bena in pain once more. "You didn't even know about Cailan's plan until just now. It's not as if you were in on it."

"If Loghain didn't know who had advised Cailan, he might have assumed it was our family," Bena said. "The Couslands would have stood the most to gain from a direct tie to the throne."

"Do you know for certain that it wasn't your family who advised Cailan on this matter?" Ellana asked.

"It wasn't my father," Bryon replied flatly. "He was intent on seeing Bena marry her betrothed."

_Betrothed?_ The word stung Alistair like a fresh cut. _She's engaged to someone? Does she love him?_

"So your betrothed," Amee began, "is he a noble like you? Would he be willing to help us?"

Alistair waited for the bad news, to hear that Bena was engaged to someone rich and handsome and actually acknowledged by his parents. The lucky dolt was probably madly in love with her and devoted to her—_who wouldn't be—_and she probably felt the same way about him.

"He is a noble," Bena replied, in what Alistair considered an oddly sullen manner given that she was speaking of her future husband.

"But Ben's not marrying him," Bryon added firmly, surprising Alistair and giving him a sudden feeling of hope.

"Why not?" Amee asked.

Bena offered the following reply, "The marriage was arranged soon after I was born. My father and his best friend at the time, Arl Howe, thought it would be a good idea if there were a union between their two families through marriage. I was then promised to Thomas Howe—the arl's eldest son."

"But after what Howe did to our family, there's not a chance in hell that I'd let you marry that bastard's son," Bryon stated.

Amee then added, "Your father and Arl Howe were so close, but Howe still committed those horrors against your family. How could he do that? What sort of monster is he?"

"It's my fault," Bena replied sadly, looking down into the fire.

"That's not true," Bryon said, placing his hand on his sister's shoulder.

"Yes it is, Bryon," Bena said, sounding upset as she looked back up at her brother. "I was the reason Cailan was considering leaving his wife, the reason the Howes were worried that they wouldn't get the dowry father had promised, and the reason the Mac Tirs feared that Anora would lose her throne. Do you honestly think any of this would have had happened if our parents had only had sons?"

"Yes," Bryon replied flatly. "This act of stupidity on Cailan's part," he said, motioning to the letter in his hands, "it merely gave Howe the opportunity to recruit Loghain into his schemes. But for Howe to betray us like this, I think it shows a deeper hatred towards our family than would have been caused by the possibility of you not marrying Thomas."

While Bryon's words seemed to calm Bena, she still looked dismayed, as if she were continuing to blame herself for Howe's actions. In that moment, Alistair hated not only the arl, but also his brother. Alistair agreed with Bryon that none of this was Bena's fault and, although Loghain and Howe were the actual culprits, he considered Cailan the instigator of this entire mess. If only Cailan had taken the time to think about the consequences of his actions, Alistair thought that his brother might have seen the danger he was placing Bena in. It didn't help Alistair's anger either that every time he thought about Cailan's offer to Bena, images of the two of them together ran through his mind, and suddenly he wanted to rip Cailan apart.

Then the timing of it all struck Alistair. Cailan had asked Bena to consider giving him a child _after _she had become a Grey Warden, obviously because Cailan didn't know what happens to someone once they join the Grey Wardens. This made Alistair remember that none of these new Wardens knew about the changes either. Duncan hadn't had an opportunity to tell them before the battle, and now only Alistair was left to tell them.

He considered keeping it from them, letting them know about the sacrifices a Warden must make at a better time. Yet Alistair doubted if there would ever be a 'better time,' and they might be angrier with him for keeping this knowledge to himself. After determining that the earlier conversation had quieted down, Alistair decided that he should let them know the truth that evening. Looking at Bena once more, though, he suddenly didn't know if he had it in him to tell the female Wardens about all the changes. In an attempt to work up the courage for what he believed would be the harder task, he decided to tell the male Wardens first.

"Bryon, Torval, can I speak with you both for a moment?" he asked. The two Wardens gave him questioning looks, but proceeded to follow him into the surrounding woods.

"What's wrong, Alistair?" Bryon asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the camp.

"It's come to my attention that you haven't been informed of the changes that Wardens undergo after the joining."

"You mean there's more than our ability to sense darkspawn?" Bryon asked.

"Yes," Alistair replied. Feeling anxious under Bryon and Torval's stares, Alistair paused before continuing, "For example…you may have noticed an increase in appetite."

"Well, I could have told ya that after my third helping of that Stone-awful stew tonight," Torval interjected.

"Yes," Alistair said, chuckling nervously, "I guess it's a good thing that being a Warden also increases your strength and stamina and helps you keep off any extra weight."

Bryon didn't appear amused in the slightest by Alistair and Torval's discussion. With a cold look in his eyes, he asked, "What are the changes you don't want to tell us about?"

"Well, there are the darkspawn nightmares. You may have already started experiencing those," Alistair began, keeping his eyes down and running a hand back through his hair, "Also…Wardens don't die of old age. Once we're exposed to the taint, we only have about thirty years left."

There was silence for a moment, before Torval replied more seriously, "Given our line of work, I'd be surprised if any of us makes it that long."

"Anything else?" Bryon asked harshly.

Somehow Alistair mustered up the strength to face the others as he said, "As far as I know, Wardens can't have children. I've never heard of a Warden having a child unless it was before their joining."

Bryon turned away from Alistair and gazed toward the campsite, a stern look still on his face. "Is this true for the female Wardens too?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Has anyone told them yet?" Bryon asked.

"No. Duncan was supposed to tell the two of you after the battle, and a female Warden would have explained it to the others," Alistair replied. "I guess I'll have to explain it to them now."

"No," Bryon replied. He had turned back to Alistair, and the templar had expected Bryon to start a fight with him or at least to see anger in the young man's face. Instead, Alistair saw a strange mixture of loss and determination. "I'll speak to Bena about this. She can tell the others."

"Are you certain?"

"It would be easier on her coming from me."

Alistair did not argue further. In fact, he tried to avoid Bena for the rest of the night. He felt it would be too difficult to look her in the eye and see the pain that this news would no doubt cause her. She had been through enough suffering, and now he was adding to her sorrow and didn't have the will to face it.

He quickly made his way to his bedroll, telling the others he was calling it an early night and that they should wake him when they needed him on watch.

* * *

Alistair soon found himself in the middle of a long, stone hallway—so long that he couldn't see its end in either direction. Along the hallway were a series of wooden doors. Alistair began opening them only to find stone or nothingness awaiting him on the other side.

Just as he was about to open another door, Alistair heard a woman scream. He ran in the direction of the voice as it continued to cry out, pleading for help. As he neared its source, Alistair suddenly recognized the voice as Bena's. A chill ran through him, and he picked up his pace.

"Somebody help me!" she screamed, just as Alistair reached the door her voice was emanating from.

Alistair tried the knob, but it wouldn't turn. He slammed on the door, but received no response. Finally, he tried kicking it down, but still the door wouldn't budge. Then the screaming stopped, and Alistair ceased pounding on the door so that he could try to hear what was going on inside.

Suddenly the knob began to turn. Alistair took a step back and prepared to attack whatever sort of beast might come out of the room. He didn't have his sword, but his fists were ready enough for a fight.

The door slowly opened, and Alistair was stunned to see Cailan walk out.

When Cailan caught sight of Alistair, he said almost jovially, "Why my dear little bastard brother, whatever are you doing here?"

Alistair usually would have tried to avoid speaking to his brother, but now he needed to find Bena. "I'm looking for someone, a young woman named Bena Cousland."

"Ah, Bena," Cailan said, briefly closing his eyes as if he were savoring some memory. "I've actually just come from seeing her."

"I heard her screaming," Alistair said anxiously.

"Yes, she does tend to do that. No matter how many times I fuck her, she still won't conceive and she still won't let me have her without a fight," Cailan said smiling.

The smile disappeared as soon as Alistair's fist came crashing down upon Cailan's jaw. The blow was so forceful it spun Cailan around and knocked him to the ground.

"Stay away from her!" Alistair spat.

"I intend to," Cailan replied coldly as he propped himself up. "She failed to give me an heir so, like Anora, I'm getting rid of her. The darkspawn seem to want her so badly that I'm offering her up to them."

Alistair began to hear the yells of the horde through the partially opened door. He moved to go through it, but as soon as he approached the door, it slammed shut.

When Bena's screams began once more, Alistair again pounded on the door, crying "No! No! No!"

* * *

"No!"

"Alistair! Alistair, wake up!" he heard from a quiet, yet anxious voice. After another moment, he recognized its owner.

"Bena?" he said, as he opened his eyes and found the young woman kneeling over him. She had one hand on his cheek to tilt his face toward her. His heart was still racing from the dream and now from Bena's touch.

"Are you all right?" she asked, sounding concerned.

"I'm fine," he replied quickly and out of breath. "Are you?"

"Yes, Alistair. I wasn't the one having a nightmare," she said, removing her hand. "What were you dreaming about that agitated you so?"

"You," Alistair replied, without thought. He then realized what his response must have sounded like. He tried to recover, but words were tumbling out of his mouth clumsily as his mind was still trying to shake off the feel of the dream. "What I meant was…You see…I didn't mean…"

"It's all right, Alistair," Bena replied as she started to stand. "I didn't mean to give you nightmares."

"You didn't," Alistair said hurriedly, sitting up and grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving him. "You weren't my nightmare; you were just there _in _my nightmare. There were darkspawn, and I couldn't get to you."

"Calm down, Alistair. It was only a dream," Bena said, looking at him reassuringly.

Slowly, he began to feel fully awake and found himself amazed that Bena would even be speaking with him. He now remembered that he had just had Bryon deliver to Bena the dark truths about being a Warden. He had expected her to be furious with him, but she actually sounded worried about him.

"Wait. I don't understand. Why don't you sound angry with me?" he asked.

"About the nightmare or about what you told Bryon earlier?"

"Or about me being too cowardly to tell you myself."

"I'm not angry with you about any of it Alistair," Bena replied. "I wasn't happy to learn what it really means to be a Warden, but I don't blame you for it. It was my choice to become a Warden. It's not as if you forced these changes upon me. I may need time to fully accept it, but that doesn't mean I'm angry with you."

"Thank you," he said quietly, hardly able to believe how understanding she was.

"You're welcome," Bena replied, easing herself from his grip. Alistair thought himself foolish for touching her in the first place—or at least he did until she came closer to him and put one hand back on his cheek. At that point, Alistair thought his lungs had stopped working given the way he was holding his breath. Her lips then left a swift kiss upon his forehead, before she added, "Try to get some more rest, Alistair. You still have some time before your shift."

She then stood and left him wondering how he could possibly get any rest with his heart ready to burst from his chest.


	17. Chapter 16 Lothering Part 1

_**Author's note: **__I wanted to say thanks to everyone who has been reading, reviewing, alerting, and/or favoriting this story. I truly appreciate it!_

_The chapter on Lothering was becoming a bit long, so I broke it into two parts, both of which should be posted today. I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Lothering was a dreadful sight for Amee to behold. Refugees had flooded the town in hopes of finding a safe haven away from the darkspawn horde, and with the desperate masses had come those ready to prey upon them. Amee and her companions encountered numerous swindlers and thieves throughout the town, eager to relieve the refugees of what little they had and more than willing to take those items by force.

Amee and the others did whatever they could to stop these atrocities, from killing bandits to convincing a merchant to sell his wares at reasonable prices. For a time, they did this as one group with Bryon and Bena in the lead. Amee watched as Bena tried to resolve issues using logic and cunning, whereas Bryon seemed to prefer a more forceful approach. Once they had gained more information on the specific troubles of the town, the party split up, with Bena leading Alistair, Morrigan, Hildra, and Lux and Bryon leading the rest.

Bryon brought Amee and the other members of his party first to the local inn, where they hoped to find out more about what was going on outside of Lothering. Instead, they stumbled upon a company of Loghain's men, lying in wait for any Wardens that might pass through the area. The commander of these men immediately recognized the Cousland crest upon Bryon's shield and knew that he had found their quarry. He called his men to arms before the Wardens had even reached the bar counter.

Amee felt her nerves flutter as over a dozen soldiers moved to surround them. She steadied herself by focusing on Bryon's calm demeanor as he attempted to explain to the soldiers that the Wardens had taken no part in the king's death. Loghain's men would hear none of Bryon's arguments, nor would they listen to the pleas of a redheaded Chantry sister, who asked them not to cause bloodshed.

Amee wasn't surprised that Bryon didn't try to reason with the men any further. He instead drew his sword and started fighting with the soldiers. What was surprising, though, was that the Chantry sister unsheathed two daggers and joined in the fray as well. Amee found her to be an oddly skilled fighter for someone who was supposedly peaceable. Amee also thought it strange that the sister reminded her of someone that she couldn't exactly place, but the mage was soon distracted from this thought when the fighting escalated.

The tavern provided little room for anything other than close combat. Torval, Ellana, and the Chantry sister moved quickly and carefully through their opponents, while Bryon and Astor's more belligerent attacks proved highly destructive in the crowded space. Amee provided support from the back of the party, firing arcane bolts at the more aggressive soldiers.

After several minutes of intense fighting, their only remaining opponent was the commander of Loghain's men. With a swift hit, Bryon knocked the man's sword from his hand, and the man fell to his knees.

"I yield, Warden," the commander said, his voice sounding desperate.

Bryon lifted his blade to the man's throat. With eyes reflecting anger and coldness, Bryon stated, "Stand up."

The commander complied with Bryon's order, and Amee could see the fear in his face as he awaited Bryon's judgment.

"I'm going to let you live," Bryon said. At that, the commander let out a sigh of relief until he realized that Bryon wasn't finished. The Warden's blade dug deeper into the man's flesh and his gaze became more frightening as he said, "I'm letting you live because I want you to go back to Loghain and tell him what happened here today. Tell him how his men fell upon our blades and that he will soon join them. Tell him we know what really happened at Ostagar and we shall make him answer for his crimes."

Blood was beginning to drip down the man's throat as he nodded and muttered, "I shall tell him."

"Good. Now go," Bryon stated, releasing the commander from his hold. The man kept his eyes fixed on Bryon as he made his way to the door, stumbling on the debris and bodies scattered throughout the inn. He looked terrified in Amee's opinion, as if he feared that at any moment Bryon would change his mind and run him through. Bryon stayed where he was, though, and the Chantry sister approached him soon after the commander was gone.

"It was good of you to spare him," she said in a foreign accent.

"Hardly," Bryon replied somberly. "I've most likely condemned him to a far worse death."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I doubt Loghain will be merciful when he learns of that man's failure to kill us," Bryon answered.

"Then, it shows you are a better man than this Loghain," the sister replied, offering Bryon a smile and lightly placing her hand on his arm before adding, "as I knew you would be."

As the Chantry sister touched Bryon, it suddenly clicked in Amee's mind why this woman seemed so familiar—Lily! Lily, the redheaded Chantry initiate who had stolen her former lover Jowan's heart and had turned him toward a dark path, was so similar to the woman currently before Amee. Both had the same color hair, the same ties to the Chantry, and the same manner when approaching men—a sweet manner that could capture a man's eye but also could cause devastating heartache.

"What do you mean that 'you knew he would be'?" Amee interjected, now feeling annoyed by this mystery woman throwing herself into Warden business and getting all too close to Bryon in her opinion. Amee knew there wasn't anything official between herself and Bryon yet, but she couldn't deny that there was something there—something that Amee wasn't about to let this redheaded sister ruin before it even had a real chance to start.

"I apologize. I have not been very forthcoming, have I? I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters at Lothering's chantry. I knew who you were and what you would be like because the Maker told me these things when He told me to join you. Surely He would not do so without good reason," she replied in complete seriousness.

"Can you…elaborate?" Bryon asked incredulously.

"I know it sounds absolutely insane, but I had a dream…a vision! The Maker doesn't want the people suffering as they are here in Lothering. By striving to end this despair, you are doing His work. Let me help you!" Leliana begged desperately.

"I suppose we're not really in a position to be refusing help from anyone," Bryon replied. "Especially not the Maker."

"Are you serious?" Amee asked in an exasperated tone.

"Yeah, kid," Torval began, "ya sure about takin' 'er on when she may be a few coals short of a fire, if ya catch my meanin'?" The dwarf posed his question while motioning toward his skull, clearly asking if Bryon thought the lay sister was sane enough to travel with them.

"Yes, I'm sure about this," Bryon replied. "She handled herself well during the fight, and she seems to be one of few people in the whole of Thedas who supports our cause."

"Fair enough, kid," Torval continued, "but as I see it, all we need now is an ax-wieldin' murderer and are little gang here'll be full up on crazy."

"I'll keep that in mind before making any future recruitments," Bryon replied. Then, in a move that rather bothered Amee, he shook the lay sister's hand as he said, "Welcome to the team, Leliana."

Leliana thanked Bryon in response, smiling and batting her eyelashes at him in a way that was beginning to make Amee ill. Suddenly, the mage felt something soft and furry creep under her hand wanting attention. She looked down to see Astor nudging her hand and hip as if he wanted to be petted. Amee complied and found herself calmer as she scratched the dog behind the ears and distracted herself from the new addition to their party. The less she thought about Leliana, the less she thought about Lily and the pain she had gone through in losing Jowan. She didn't want to go through the same sort of loss with Bryon, so she would either have to give him up now or somehow convince him to choose her rather than the Chantry sister, unlike what Jowan had done. As Amee dwelled on this, Bryon led the group through the rest of the inn, stopping to speak with a representative of a mercenary organization and a merchant before leaving.

Bryon's group continued to work throughout the afternoon in an attempt to improve the situation in Lothering, but despite their efforts, the task still seemed endless as the day drew to a close. At nightfall, they rejoined the rest of their party and set up camp in a field on the outskirts of town.

That evening, thoughts of the suffering people of Lothering and memories of her own rough journey to this town weighed Amee down to the point where she desperately needed a distraction beyond the licks and happy barks that Astor offered her. She soon found what she was looking for in the twin's current bickering.

"She doesn't seem like the type who would strike fear into the hearts of our enemies," Bena said, referring to Leliana and speaking in a voice so that only her brother, Alistair, and Amee could hear. Amee couldn't help but smile at the fact that Bena wasn't entirely smitten with their new recruit either.

"From what I've seen of the darkspawn, fear doesn't seem to stop them from trying to attack us," Bryon replied in the same hushed manner. "Besides, I trust her more than I trust that murdering giant over there," he added as he stared at the stoic Qunari warrior named Sten, whom Bena had rescued from imprisonment earlier that day.

"Well, we're not just dealing with darkspawn anymore," Bena stated. "There are Loghain's men. There are mercenaries wanting to get their hands on the bounty on our heads. And then there are the common bandits and thugs lurking around every corner. Now, even though darkspawn might not be scared of the giant with the broadsword in the center of our camp, I get the feeling that others might be, and that could be useful to us."

"So long as he doesn't kill us first," Bryon added.

"So long as he doesn't kill us first," Bena repeated in agreement.

Another member of their party soon approached their little group. "So, what's our next move?" Hildra asked, drawing the attention of the entire camp.

Speaking so that everyone could hear him, Bryon began, "Well, our group encountered Loghain's soldiers waiting for us at the inn, and Ben's group apparently ran into civilians hoping to collect a bounty that Loghain has placed on our heads. What we've learned from these attacks is that Loghain has the whole of Ferelden thinking that we Wardens are to blame for the king's death, and he wants us dead so we can't contradict his story."

Bena continued from there, "We've also found out that Arl Eamon is severely—and rather suspiciously—ill. I imagine if we go to Redcliffe and are able to find some sort of cure for the arl, he might be able to provide us with some much-needed support in taking down Loghain and ending the Blight."

"To that end," Bryon said, "Bena and I have decided that we should go to Redcliffe first and find out more about the arl's condition. From there, we'll see to the fulfillment of the Warden treaties. Any questions?"

"I have a question," Morrigan spoke up. "Now that we have new members in our party, may we begin ridding ourselves of the older, more useless individuals within our group? If so, then I nominate Alistair to be the first to leave."

"Funny," Alistair replied, "I would have nominated you for that particular honor, given that all you seem to know how to do is insult people."

"And you seem capable only of being a weepy, bumbling idiot. Now that we have a real warrior in Sten, what need have we for you?" Morrigan asked.

"If a mage of the Qunari showed such insolence," Sten stated, "it would be beaten and have its tongue removed."

At that comment, Morrigan glared at Sten. A wide grin appeared on Alistair's face as he said, "Ha! I like your style, Sten."

"Enough!" Bena shouted, rising from the log on which she had sat. "No one is leaving our party unless they choose to do so; no one is being forced out. However, everyone who stays in this party must be willing to work together because, whether you like each other or not, we're all here to end this Blight.

"Now, Bryon, you, Amee, and Sten should take first watch. Morrigan, you and I will take second watch with Lux. Alistair, Torval, and Astor will take third. And Hildra, Ellana, and Leliana will take the final watch. Anyone not on watch should get as much rest as possible. We have a long road ahead of us."

Bena then walked off, telling her brother she needed a moment alone and leaving the others to ponder what she had said. No one offered a word of disagreement with her orders, but instead, sat in near silence until it was time to retire for the evening. Amee noticed that Alistair looked miserable. He had looked depressed ever since Ostagar, but after Bena spoke, he looked worse.

Before the first watch began, Bryon asked Torval and Alistair to check the perimeter, with Torval heading west and Alistair heading east along the camp. Amee saw that Alistair was walking in Bena's direction, and she hoped that the templar would run into the girl. Bena always did seem to have a way of making him feel better.


	18. Chapter 17 Lothering Part 2

_**Author's note: **__Part 2 of the Lothering experiences. Remember that this story is rated M._

_As always, thanks for reading!_

* * *

"You shouldn't be out here on your own," Bena heard Alistair say from behind her. She had found a fallen tree outside their camp and now sat on the ground with her knees pulled tightly to her chest and her back against the tree trunk.

"Why not?" she asked defiantly. She was still a bit angry at him for the way he had acted at camp. She saw the use in every member of their party, and it bothered her that he couldn't see it as well.

"Someone could sneak up on you out here. This far away from camp, we wouldn't be able to come to your aid very quickly."

"Alistair, I didn't know you were behind me just because I could sense you through the taint. I heard you approaching from twenty paces out. The only other things I've heard around here were a pair of rabbits near those bushes. If anyone or anything else comes into the area, I'll know."

"What if they're as quiet as you?" Alistair asked, moving around the tree and sitting down on the log near Bena.

"If they're that quiet, Alistair, they could sneak up on me silently anywhere—whether it's here or in camp. And in either place, they could do so quietly enough so that none of our party would know that I needed aid."

Bena then moved up to the log to sit beside Alistair and look him in the face, and in the moonlight, she could see he wasn't satisfied with the answer she had just given him. For some reason, the fact that he still couldn't understand her actions frustrated her.

"You think it's silly for me to be out here, don't you?" she asked. "Just like you think it was foolish of me to recruit Sten. Do you think my every decision lacks reason?"

"Well, you were the one who decided that both Morrigan and I should be in the same group together earlier today. From our constant quarreling, you could no doubt tell how well that decision worked out."

"I know everyone thinks I'm mad for trusting Morrigan in even slightest way, but I assure you I am not foolish about it. I know she's an apostate, and I know there's a chance she may turn on us. And if she did decide to turn on us, I also know that our best chance of beating her is you."

Alistair looked taken aback by the compliment, but Bena continued, "I've seen you fight emissaries, Alistair. You're a skilled templar, and I just thought it would be wise to have you there with Morrigan just in case. However, if you really are so bothered by it, I'll see to it that you're kept apart from her."

"Oh, Maker, I am an idiot," Alistair replied, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "I should have known you weren't just testing my patience by keeping us together. Forgive me…" His head then turned toward hers, and he looked at her intently. "Switch watches with me. I don't want to leave you alone with her."

"That won't be necessary, Alistair," Bena replied. "Morrigan doesn't seem to dislike me, so I'm not worried about being alone with her."

"But you will wake me if it looks like she might cause any trouble, won't you?" he asked, his eyes pleading.

He looked so desperate that Bena's anger began to wane and she found she couldn't deny him his request. "I promise," she replied, and she saw a hint of relief enter his eyes. However, he still looked upset about something. In fact, now that she thought about it, he had looked more depressed today than he had since losing Duncan. "Are you all right, Alistair?" she asked. "You've seemed out of sorts today."

"I'm sorry," he said, looking down at the ground. "I guess we've just had some upsetting news recently."

"About Arl Eamon?" she asked, remembering how Alistair had been affected when they had learned of the arl's illness. "Do you know him well?"

"Yes. The arl raised me for a time."

"I thought you were raised by the Chantry," she said, looking puzzled.

"Well, you see…I was born…well…that is, I'm…well," he sputtered, before dropping his face down into his palms. From behind his hands he said, "I'm a bastard."

Once that was out, Alistair seemed to gain more confidence. He lifted his head and again spoke, "My mother was a chambermaid at Arl Eamon's castle. She died when I was born, and the arl took me in and raised me for a time, even though he wasn't the man who fathered me.

"When the arl took a wife, though," Alistair continued, "she wasn't entirely happy having a boy around who most people thought was Eamon's bastard. It got to the point where Lady Isolde couldn't stand to have me there, so when I was ten, Eamon sent me off to the Chantry to be trained as a templar."

"That's horrible," Bena replied, feeling disgusted and angered by the arlessa's cruelness. "How could anyone do that to a child?"

"What do you mean?" Alistair asked with his gaze fixed upon her. "It was her home, and she was tired of hearing all the talk about Eamon's little indiscretion."

"It was your home too, Alistair! Isolde had no right to treat you that way for something that wasn't even your fault."

"Maybe you're right," Alistair said. "I certainly was angry about it when Eamon was sending me away. There was this gold amulet that I always used to wear—it had the symbol of Andraste on it and it was the only thing I had that belonged to my mother. When I was leaving, I tore the amulet off and I threw it at him. It hit a wall and shattered. I still feel so stupid about that."

"You were just a boy, Alistair," Bena said soothingly, placing a hand on his armored shoulder. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

"Thanks," Alistair replied. "I think I'll feel better once we find a way to help the arl. He and Duncan were the closest things I had to a real father. And to lose them both—that would be difficult to bear."

"You won't lose Eamon, Alistair. We're going to find out what's wrong and then we'll find a cure," Bena said reassuringly. Seeing that Alistair still looked somber, she added, "I've been meaning to ask, is there any way that you want to honor Duncan? Some way we could pay tribute to his life?"

"I've been thinking about that. I'd really like to set up a memorial for him, perhaps when the Blight is done. He was from Highever, and I was thinking I could build a memorial for him there. What do you think?"

Bena became lost in thought at the mention of Highever. She thought about the number of memorials that would have to be built for her family alone, and she felt close to tears. However, she was determined not to break down again. She bit back her tears and said, "I think he would like that. Maybe I'll go there too, when you go."

"I'd like that," he said, smiling and then placing his gauntleted hand upon her knee. At the contact, though, Bena jumped up. Thinking about Highever had made her remember the night she had fled her home, and the feel of an armored hand upon her skin reminded her of the men that held her down that night.

"I'm sorry," Alistair said, his smile replaced with a look of worry. He stood, but made sure to give her space, as he asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Alistair, you didn't do anything wrong." Bena replied, trying to regain her composure and steady her voice. She hated feeling so vulnerable, and she hated that a gentle touch between friends would cause her such anxiety. "I just…I should head back to camp."

"Of course. Do you want me to accompany you?" he asked in a manner as if he wanted to make amends for whatever wrong he still felt he had committed.

"No, I'll be fine on my own," she answered, wanting time alone to calm her nerves. Bena was thankful that he didn't press the issue, but instead, he left her saying that he had to continue checking the perimeter.

Bena watched him walk off before quickly turning around and heading back to camp. With her back to the templar, she failed to notice how Alistair had stopped looking forward to make sure the area was secure. Instead, he was focusing on a woman's figure retreating to the campfire and hoping that he could find someway to convince her to forgive him.

* * *

Throughout their watch, Amee hardly spoke to Bryon. She was still bothered by the way he had welcomed the new Chantry sister into their midst, and she especially disliked the way he had said goodnight to her. Before their watch had started, Bryon had passed by the redhead's tent as she was retiring, and he had started speaking to her. Again, Amee saw the woman's hand rest upon Bryon's arm, and again, he didn't pull away from her touch. Then, Amee had heard giggling. Something Bryon said had made the sister laugh, and the sound had been infuriating. Amee was so upset by the time Bryon returned to the fire that she barely acknowledged his existence during their watch.

For that reason, when Bena and Morrigan took over, Amee didn't notice Bryon approaching her where she sat until he was standing right in front of her. She didn't look up at his face, but instead kept her gaze fixed upon his boots.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Not really," she answered, still looking down.

Suddenly, an open, unarmored hand was extended in front of her line of sight, as Bryon asked, "Would you care to take a walk with me?"

She wasn't sure what she wanted to do. If she went with him, she could give him a piece of her mind, or she could make him beg for her forgiveness for the way he had been acting—whichever came first. Or, she could refuse to walk with him, but she didn't know if that would help to achieve what she wanted. After a moment of internal debate, she hesitantly took the offered hand and let Bryon help her up.

They walked until they reached the river. There, Bryon stopped and said, "I want to talk to you."

Amee continued walking a few paces toward a nearby tree. She turned around to face Bryon, as she leaned back against the trunk, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked.

"You're angry at me," Bryon replied. "And I'd like to know what I did to offend you so I can avoid doing it in the future."

"It's nothing," she said, looking down at her feet.

"I know that's not true."

She let a few moments of awkward silence pass between them before saying, "Your new recruit seems well liked."

"Yes, I believe she is," Bryon replied, moving closer to Amee.

"That's good," Amee replied weakly. "It must be nice to have someone around who's good at close combat and who's not seen as an abomination in the eyes of the Chantry."

"I suppose," Bryon said, now standing right in front of her, leaning in with one hand against the tree above Amee's shoulder. In a quieter tone, he added, "But only if you have a preference toward redheads."

Amee still wasn't looking at him. She couldn't believe she was becoming undone over whether this man had feelings for someone else, but she had to know. She had already been burnt once before by a man who apparently had preferred a redheaded Chantry initiate to her, and now she wondered if she had fallen into the same mistake twice. "Do you have a preference for redheads?" she asked.

Suddenly, she felt his fingers on her chin, tilting her head upward to look at him. His gaze felt like it was piercing her soul as he said, "I'm looking at what I have a preference for."

She quickly closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss wasn't slow or soft, but rather, it was demanding. She poured all of the emotions that had built up inside her throughout the day into that kiss, and Bryon's lips seemed equally intent on letting her know the passion he felt for her. Their tongues danced as Bryon wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to him.

They broke apart for air, and Bryon whispered, "You have to know that I want only you, Amee." She could see the truth of the statement in his eyes, and she began to realize that she too wanted only him. Her prior life was gone, and she now saw that Bryon was best part of her new life. He made her feel warm and happy and safe, despite the darkness that constantly surrounded them, and now she wanted him to know it.

Her hand slid down his breastplate until it reached his belt and undid the buckle there. His breath hitched, and he asked in a husky tone, "Are you certain?"

Amee nodded, and to prove that she was certain, her hand next released the clasp holding her own robes closed.

Their lips met once more, as Bryon brought one hand down to explore beneath her now open robes. His hand entered at her waist, and Amee moaned as the hand traveled upward and began to massage her breast through the linen of her shift. She arched her back as his thumb tweaked her nipple, and she could feel heat building below her belly.

As if drawn to the growing flame inside of her, the hand made its way downward to the skirt of her shift. Bryon drew up the fabric there to gain access to what lay underneath. As his hand caressed the bare skin of her abdomen, Bryon pulled away from the kiss to gaze at Amee's face. She could see desire in his eyes that no doubt matched the look in her own.

He continued to watch her as his fingertips gently brushed against her belly down to the fabric of her smallclothes. She could already feel the slickness between her legs caused by his touch, and now she wanted more of him. Her breathing became heavy with anticipation as she felt Bryon's hand venture beneath the fabric.

His fingers slowly combed through the hairs above her sex before sliding between her wet folds. She gasped when his fingers reached the sensitive spot above her entrance and began to rub. Suddenly, his lips returned to her skin, this time blazing a trail up and down her neck. The sensations were almost too much for Amee to handle; she had to grip down on Bryon's arms just to keep upright.

Then his fingers went deeper as his thumb continued to attend to her nub. His fingers teased at her entrance for a time, skimming along the rim without truly entering. It was driving her mad. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out for Bryon to fulfill her desire. Finally, her body could take no more. She bucked against his hand, and then his kisses stopped.

Bryon's gaze returned to her face, and Amee could see something new in his dark eyes—possessiveness. The look conveyed that, with this next step, he was laying a claim to her, and Amee couldn't help but want him to. While she found the intensity of his gaze both exhilarating and frightening, she was past the point of no return. She needed him to bury his fingers deep inside her and bring her to her release. She needed him to discard that bothersome armor and pull her close to his body, letting her feel the hardness of his own arousal. She needed him to make love to her again and again until Lothering and all of its pain and suffering were nothing more than a distant memory, and then she could lose herself in the bliss she found in Bryon's arms.

Amee poured this need into a single muttered word—"Please."

Bryon readily complied, thrusting two fingers deep within her and making her gasp at the force of it. His other hand then pulled down on the neckline of her shift until one breast was free from its binding. Bryon kneeled down to take her nipple into his mouth, and he began to suckle the bud while his fingers continued to pump in and out of her sex.

Amee weaved her fingers through Bryon's hair, encouraging the ministrations of his mouth as she relished the feeling of his fingers filling her. She felt heat swelling in her body more overwhelming than anything she had ever experienced before. Moans and gasps escaped her mouth in response to it, and she began to shake at the intensity of it. Bryon's free hand wrapped around her body to steady her as her climax came upon her like an explosion of flame within her core.

As the waves of pleasure finished passing through her body, Bryon slowly withdrew his fingers from her sex. Amee watched as he brought the fingers up to his mouth and licked the liquid arousal coating them.

"Amee, you taste so delicious," he uttered huskily.

"Do I?" she replied, her eyes still glowing from her climax. She then took up one of his fingers and brought it to her own mouth.

Bryon groaned as Amee's mouth closed around his finger. Then, ever so slowly, she pulled away from the finger, letting her tongue caress the bottom side while her teeth lightly grazed the top.

"Amee…I…I need you," he whispered desperately, as the arm he had wrapped around her body gripped her more tightly. Amee could do nothing more than nod, and Bryon stood in response and began working on the fastenings of his armor.

Amee was eager, yet afraid, all at the same time. Bryon was so large and imposing, and he had been so brutal with Loghain's men earlier in the day. Then again, he had never done anything to hurt her, nor had he ever forced himself upon her. He was a gentleman—only a gentleman who could kill a man with his bare hands. _And oh what he can do with those hands! _Amee thought, still amazed that he had made her come harder than she had ever come before with only his fingers. Now she wondered what it would feel like to have his manhood buried deep inside her.

Bryon seemed to sense her anxiousness and did what he could to quell it by pressing his lips to hers. He nearly had his breastplate removed when a scream suddenly broke through the night air.

"Spiders!" a female voice from the camp yelled, as Bryon and Amee broke apart from their kiss.

"Andraste's flaming sword!" Bryon cursed at the interruption, looking off in the direction of the camp.

Amee knew that a part of him wanted to go up there and make sure everyone was safe. The screams and sounds of fighting weren't subsiding, so Amee began closing up her clothing and said, "We should get back to camp."

Bryon's eyes returned to her, and Amee could see how torn he felt between duty and desire. She placed a hand upon his cheek and whispered in a sultry voice, "We can finish this later."

He leaned down and planted a swift, yet passionate kiss upon her lips before replying, "I feel that later will not come soon enough, my beautiful, blonde mage."

Amee smiled at that, and then both she and Bryon did what they could to compose themselves before making their way back to the camp.

Unfortunately for the enamored pair, 'later' did not come that evening. After fighting the spiders and cleaning up the mess the creatures made, dawn was practically upon them. And with the rising sun, the road beckoned the party onward, leaving Amee still wondering what it would feel like to truly be with Bryon. Even though she had been denied that experience, she was at least happy in the knowledge that Bryon preferred her to the new recruit. With that thought in her mind—along with the memory of how wonderful his fingers had made her feel—Amee couldn't help but smile again as they set out on the road to Redcliffe.


	19. Chapter 18 Thomas Howe

_**Author's Note: **_Thank you to everyone for reviewing, alerting, favoriting, and reading this story! It means a great deal to me.

Now on to two short chapters that I'm posting today. The first chapter is a bit dark and is what I would call a "villain cut scene," centering on Thomas Howe. The second is the start of the Redcliffe chapters and focuses on Bena and Alistair, whose relationship may take some time because they're both shy, awkward virgins. As usual, I have a few differences from the plot of the game to accommodate my story.

I hope you enjoy! And Happy Holidays!

* * *

Thomas Howe sat in the study of his family's estate in Denerim, strumming his fingers on an old oak desk as he waited for news from his father on how the meeting between the nobles and the new regent Loghain had gone. He had made a servant close the curtains and light several lanterns when he entered, preferring the darker atmosphere to the harsh sunlight that had filled the room earlier.

He doubted things were going as his father had hoped. Too many people weren't happy about Loghain abandoning the king, no matter how the regent might try to justify his actions. Because of that, Thomas had the feeling that his father wouldn't get all of the new titles and lands that he had longed for. Thomas knew Loghain wasn't stupid. Bestowing gifts on his friends and making drastic changes to the rankings of certain noble families would weaken the legitimacy of Loghain's claims that he was acting as regent solely 'for the good of Ferelden.'

And Thomas couldn't help but be smug at the thought of his father not getting what he wanted. It wasn't that Thomas disapproved of his father's actions or his methods. On the contrary, Thomas would have been just as pleased to slit the throat of Teyrn Cousland as his father no doubt had been in doing just that. What irked Thomas was that his father had left him out of all of his recent plans. He had not even told his son about what he was doing to the Couslands until after his return from Highever. On top of that, the arl had acted with only his best interests in mind, not Thomas'.

If Thomas had been part of the scheme to bring down the Couslands, he would have done things differently. One thing in particular—he would have kept Bena Cousland alive. With the rest of her family dead, she would have been the rightful heir to the teyrnir. And if he were to have married her at that point, then _he_ would have had a legitimate claim to the title of teyrn.

He thought that was part of the reason why his father had kept him in the dark. That arrangement would have improved Thomas' position, but it wouldn't have given his father the teyrnir he craved. As her lawful husband, the title would have passed to Thomas, unless he had specifically granted the rank to his father. And there would have been no way for the older Howe to take Bena as his own wife and circumvent his son's claim—not when she was already contractually betrothed to Thomas. No, Thomas would have been the one with the power, while his father would have easily fallen further into the depths of political obscurity, limited once more to his arldom.

But Thomas was angry for more than just the title denied to him—he was angry because he had _wanted _Bena. All of the Cousland children were brats, Bena especially, and Thomas had never been able to truly teach her a lesson for it. He had tried a few times, but she had almost always had some family member with her. Thomas had not been deterred, though. He had made plans for when she would be his wife in Amaranthine, away from the protection of the Couslands. He was going to break her. He had relished the thought of taming that wild, free-spirited girl—of forcing her into submission beneath him. He had wanted to make her cry out in anguish and to have her know that no one was coming to her aid. He would have made her see that she was his to do with what he pleased, and that there would be no one who could stop him.

Thomas was becoming hard at the thought of ravaging the little brunette bitch, but he was pulled from his fantasies when his father entered the room.

"What news, father?" he asked with as much composure as he could manage.

Arl Howe let out an angered and frustrated grunt as his reply, indicating that things had not gone well for him. After pouring himself a glass of brandy and draining its contents, he said, "The regent decided not to proclaim me as Teyrn of Highever just yet. He says we must wait until his own position is more secure."

"Bad luck, then," Thomas replied, suppressing a smirk.

"It gets worse," the arl said, before pouring himself another glass. "Loghain informs me that the Cousland twins managed to survive my assassination attempts, and he's received reports that they may have survived Ostagar as well."

"Wait, both of them were at Ostagar? Bena was there too?"

"Apparently so. I knew it was possible that she survived that night, because my men and I never found her body. I had assumed that she had just been turned to ash in the part of the castle that had burnt down. No one was able to find any trace of her otherwise—at least not until she showed up at Ostagar. I'm told she and her brother both became Grey Wardens after that."

"And you say she survived Ostagar?" Thomas asked, eagerly savoring once more the possibility of his fantasy becoming a reality.

"Yes, and Loghain wants all of the Wardens killed. That will give us another opportunity to finally be rid of those bothersome Couslands and will win us greater favor in Loghain's eyes. He won't be able to deny me the teyrnir once I deliver him the heads of those twins," he said, before drinking down his second glass.

"Might I offer another suggestion, father?" Thomas asked politely, but Arl Howe knew his son well. Thomas was too much like himself. He could be sweet, but was usually sweetest just before he would strike, so the arl eyed his son suspiciously at this courtesy.

Eventually the arl consented to hear him, and Thomas continued, "Kill the other Wardens for Loghain, even kill Bryon Cousland for Loghain, but spare Bena. Then, if we were able to make her follow through with the contract that Maric himself agreed to, Loghain wouldn't be able to deny you Highever. You would have a direct tie to the title through blood and marriage." Thomas had chosen these words carefully, making sure that he said "you" to his father, rather than "I" or "us." He hoped it would be enough to convince the old man of the benefits of this arrangement to _him_.

"I doubt Loghain would agree to it. He hates the girl. I've told you how I was able to make him agree to the destruction of the Couslands in the first place, haven't I? A promise of her being made to suffer was a key factor in that."

Thomas had learned of the causes that Loghain had for allowing the downfall of the Couslands, but he was still determined to get what he wanted. He said to his father, "Then we'll have to make Loghain see that she will suffer. I wouldn't be marrying her for love, father—you know that. I would marry her, you could claim the teyrnir, and then whatever Loghain wants done with her would be done." _After I've had my way with her,_ he wanted to add.

"It wouldn't be that simple. She's a spitfire; she wouldn't be easily silenced. And if the other nobles thought she was being held against her will, it would make it even more difficult for me to become teyrn of Highever. What if she were to find a way to inform the nobility that it was I—and not bandits—that killed her family? All of my hard work would have been for nothing then!"

"Then we won't give her the opportunity to tell anyone anything. We'll threaten her—tell her we'll kill some helpless innocent if she doesn't do what we say—or we'll keep her locked away in a cell, bringing her out only on a few choice occasions. Either way, we can spin tales for the nobles so that they won't doubt us. We can tell them how she was traumatized by the murder of her family, and then how she was kidnapped by the Wardens and forced to join their ranks. When we say how we finally found her and helped her escape, we'll tell them that she now fears going out in public and wants to stay safe within the home of her dear family friends. It would only be natural for her to seek comfort in the arms of her betrothed at that point. No one would question it."

Thomas could see a gleam enter his father's eyes as the ingenuity of the plan sank in. "We would have to make sure she marries you in a public enough setting—the chantry and not here. That way, no one could dispute the union. But I think you're right, there would have to be ways of making her cooperate, even when we have to let her out of the dungeons."

Thomas' wicked grin further reminded Arl Howe of himself. Thomas was the spitting image of what he had looked like thirty years ago. Perhaps Thomas was taller and a bit more muscular, but he had the same greasy black hair, the same crooked nose, and the same dark gray eyes as his father. And now it appeared that the young man had also inherited the arl's talents for conniving and scheming.

"This could work," Arl Howe stated. "I'm meeting with an assassin this afternoon who will be dealing with the Wardens. No doubt if I make it worth his while, he'll see to it that the girl is brought back to us alive."

"Brilliant, father," Thomas said, invigorated by the thought of being that much closer to getting his way. His thoughts were interrupted, though, by a knock upon the door. After his father yelled for the person to enter, a servant stepped into the room and whispered something in the arl's ear.

When the servant had finished delivering his message, the arl stated, "Unfortunately, I cannot stay, son. An Antivan is here to discuss the business we just spoke of. Excuse me." Arl Howe then exited the room, followed by the servant.

It was all the same to Thomas whether his father stayed or left. All that mattered now was that he would soon have Bena within his grasp.

In the meantime, he decided he would pay a visit to Bann Vaughan. Thomas wanted to see if his old friend had any new toys that would make his imminent exertions with Bena all the more pleasurable. He might even see if Vaughan had any knife-eared whores he could play with for the time being, although he knew he wouldn't be completely satisfied until Bena was his and begging for mercy beneath him.

_And oh how satisfying it will be! _Thomas thought, as he realized how alone she would be. Her entire family was already or soon-to-be dead. He could do whatever he liked to her, and there would be no one to answer to.

Who would possibly stop him?


	20. Chapter 19 Redcliffe Part 1

Alistair felt like a lost cause.

He had behaved like such an idiot the prior night. He had repeatedly upset Bena, and each time he had tried to fix things he just seemed to make matters worse. First, he had insulted her decision-making skills and her ability to take care of herself. Then, he had bemoaned his own sorrows when she had lost her home and her family just a few weeks ago. And finally, he had talked about things that no doubt had reminded her of the life that had been violently torn away from her.

_Why did I have to bring up Highever? _Alistair thought, as he and his companions traveled on the road to Redcliffe. _And why did I have to touch her?_

Alistair had clearly seen the marks on Bena's body when they had first met—marks that indicated just how roughly someone had manhandled her with armored hands. And last night, by touching her with his gauntleted hand, Alistair now felt as if he had poured salt onto a wound of Bena's that he had just torn open with the mention of Highever.

He just couldn't seem to get things right.

But still, despite the headaches and heartaches he experienced whenever he was near Bena, Alistair was driven to try again. He had found something while patrolling the camp's border—something beautiful, and precious, and yet strong enough to survive the Blight surrounding it. It reminded him of Bena, and he wanted to give it to her to apologize for his foolishness last night and to let her know that he would never hurt her.

All he had to do now was work up the nerve to give it to her, and that was quickly becoming a frustrating ordeal.

Alistair wanted to speak to Bena alone. He knew it wasn't possible for their conversation to be completely private, given that they were traveling in a tightly organized caravan. He had hoped, however, that he could approach her when she was on her own and not have to interrupt any other conversation that she was having. The problem was that Bena somehow seemed to get along with everyone, which meant that there was always someone wanting to talk to her or someone that she wanted to talk to.

Unfortunately for Alistair, that someone never seemed to be him as they traveled. At their current pace, they would reach Redcliffe several hours before nightfall, so Alistair began to consider just trying to speak with her there. As he started to puzzle over how he should approach her, Alistair suddenly heard a familiar voice beside him.

"Alistair?" the voice said. "Do you have a moment?"

"What…I…um…uh…" he replied, knowing that the voice belonged to Bena. He turned to look at her, and his voice completely left him. _How can her eyes still be so kind after the way I acted last night?_

But they were. The deep green orbs seemed to brighten even, as he looked at her directly and she offered him a slight smile.

"I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you," Bena said after a moment. "We can talk later if you prefer."

Alistair then realized he still hadn't offered her any sort of reply.

"No!" he said hastily. Trying to recover his composure, he added, "Talking now would work."

Her eyes then became more serious, and suddenly Alistair began to worry.

Then she spoke. "I wanted to apologize for last night," were not the words Alistair was expecting to hear from Bena. With the way he had acted, Alistair had expected her to tell him to stay away from her or to stop bothering her with his problems. He never thought she was going to apologize to him.

"What?" he uttered. "Why in the Maker's name would you be apologizing to me when I was the one who was a complete idiot last night? If anything, I should be apologizing to you for the things I said without thinking."

"No, Alistair. I want to be here to listen to everyone's problems or worries, not burden them with my own. Last night, I let a few bad memories get the better of me while we were talking, but I shouldn't have done that."

"Don't," he replied quickly. "Don't feel like you have to pretend for me or hide things from me. I've subjected you to so many of my own sorrows. You have every right to be just as open with me."

She offered him her soft smile in response—a smile that pulled on his heart to the point where Alistair knew for certain he was a lost cause. In honesty, he felt desire for this beautiful creature and a constant need to protect her, but he also felt so much more. Even with his lack of romantic experience, the emotions and turmoil brewing inside of Alistair were proof enough to him that he felt something deeper and more meaningful toward Bena. He just didn't know how to tell her.

"Hey!" Torval shouted from the front of their party. "Come take a look at this!"

The dwarf was standing on a ledge, looking at the landscape beneath him. Alistair and Bena approached where Torval stood and took in the scene.

A waterfall cascaded down a nearby cliffside and eventually winded its way to the mouth of Lake Calenhad. Above this rushing water, the travelers could see a series of bridges, connecting the different areas of the town of Redcliffe. Beyond the town on an opposing rock face stood Arl Eamon's castle.

From their current vantage point, everything seemed ominously quiet to Alistair. He wondered, though, if this was truly the case or just the result of his imagination overreacting at the sight of his old home.

Bena had taken a perch in a nearby tree to better take in the view. As she climbed down, Alistair unconsciously reached out to help her. Before he realized what he was doing, one of his hands had gripped her arm and the other was pressed behind her back to support her. Both hands were covered by gauntlets.

As soon as she was on the ground, he became aware of what he was doing and quickly pulled both hands away. He uttered hasty apologies and began to turn away, too ashamed to face her, but suddenly something caught hold of his hand. He looked back to see that it was Bena's hand that held his, keeping him in place.

"I'm sorry," he began, thinking that she wanted a better apology. "I can't believe I just did that when I know you don't like to be touched by armored hands."

"Don't apologize, Alistair," Bena replied, looking down at his hand.

"But…"

Her eyes turned upward, gazing into his and once again causing his voice to fail. "It's you underneath, Alistair," she said softly, yet sincerely. "That's all that matters."

"Bena, are you two coming?" Hildra's voice said in the distance, but Alistair barely registered it until Bena began to pull her hand away from his.

"I guess we should be going," she said, blushing as she glanced over to their audience.

She smiled as she looked at him one last time before rejoining the rest of their party. All Alistair could manage to do was smile back; he was still left speechless by her. His smile was broad, though, reflecting all the hope that Bena had just given him.

She trusted him—enough to overcome what had to be a horrible memory—and let him touch her. If she trusted him that much, he thought perhaps one day she might even feel something more for him, and the possibility of that made Alistair's heart skip a beat.

He was determined to prove himself worthy of her trust and, with any luck, her affection. Although he didn't know exactly how to go about doing that, he hoped his instinctual need to keep her safe was a good place to start. He also considered asking for advice from the other females in their party. With enough time, he thought he might even be able to work up the courage to give her the gift he had found. Perhaps that would convey to Bena how he felt about her.

For now, though, he was content to be her shield. No one would hurt her again if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

Leliana was saddened to see yet another town paralyzed by despair and fear as she and her companions learned what was going on in Redcliffe. She was also shocked to find that this state was not even caused by the darkspawn. Apparently the town was mysteriously being attacked by undead creatures each night.

The lack of darkspawn did not deter her Wardens, though. After Bann Teagan, the arl's brother, had explained the situation, the Wardens readily agreed to offer their aid to Redcliffe. With only a few hours before nightfall, the party split up to try to accomplish as much as possible.

Leliana went with Alistair and Ellana in search of a young boy who had run away from the shelter that had been set up in the Chantry. As they walked through the town, Leliana couldn't help but notice how the templar appeared distracted and how this change in behavior, like others she had seen him go through in the past two days, seemed to have something to do with the young noblewoman in their party.

"Are you all right, Alistair?" she asked as they approached a group of houses along the lake.

"What? Me? I'm fine. I just have a few things on my mind," he replied, but after a few more moments of silence he added, "You're both women, right?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation that they were in, Leliana couldn't resist treating whatever questions Alistair might bring up in this particular conversation with levity.

"Are we?" she replied. "That is news to me."

"I just…" Alistair stammered out. "I just wanted some advice on…"

"How to woo a woman?" Leliana asked. "First, you may want to avoid asking her whether she is a woman. Second, you probably should not glare at every man who looks at her."

"What do you mean? When was I glaring at anyone?"

"I saw the way you looked at Bann Teagan when Bryon introduced Bena to him. Yes, it was clear from the look in his eyes that he took an interest in her, but that does not mean you should glare at the man in jealousy."

"I was _not _glaring, and I was _not _jealous. I just didn't like how he was taking an interest in a fellow Warden at a time like this," Alistair said. Then, sheepishly he asked, "Do you think she took an interest in him?"

"I think she was too busy stealing glances at her favorite templar for her to notice any of Teagan's attentions," Leliana replied, causing a blush and smile to creep upon Alistair's face.

"I do not understand shemlen mating customs," Ellana spoke up. "If you want a woman, why do you not simply make it known to her?"

"You mean just tell her how I feel?" Alistair said, running his fingers through his hair in uncertainty. "I don't know how she'd respond to that."

Ellana shook her head and smiled, apparently amused by Alistair's response, but Leliana also saw something somber in the elf's eyes. Ellana then said, "When my former mate Tamlen first wanted to bond with me, he went into the forest alone, killed a bear, and brought me back its pelt to show that he was worthy of me. Such an offering was more than satisfactory, especially from him. He was a good elf, proud and strong, and he always treated me with respect."

"So you think if I do something special just for her and if I act like a good man when I'm around her, then that will help me to win her affection?" Alistair asked, clearly eager to hear Ellana's response.

"Those means secured my heart for Tamlen. The night he returned with the bear pelt, I rewarded him by bringing him back to my tent, stripping naked before him, and making love to him multiple times and in multiple ways. We worshipped each other's bodies until we both collapsed from exhaustion."

After Ellana spoke, Alistair was blushing so hard that Leliana saw his ears turn red, and she couldn't help but giggle at his current state. He seemed stunned speechless at the bluntness and honesty of Ellana's answer. The elf didn't seem as entertained by Alistair's lack of response as Leliana was, but rather Ellana seemed curious about it.

"Is that not the sort of reaction you hope to receive from Bena?" the elf asked.

"I…I…" he again stammered. "I'm going to go be over there," Alistair finally managed to say, before walking over to a nearby dock.

"Aww, he is so cute when he is flustered, no?" Leliana asked Ellana.

After Alistair paced and took deep breaths for a minute, he returned to his companions. "All right," he said, "let's go find this boy and just forget about what I said earlier."

"Which part?" Leliana asked teasingly. "The part where you asked how to woo Bena or the part where you became overly excited at the thought of her taking you back to her tent and—"

"All of it!" Alistair said quickly, his ears once again deep red.

Leliana began to giggle again as they made their way to the home of the missing boy. Danger and darkness might go hand in hand with accompanying the Grey Wardens during a blight, but the bard was pleased to find that there still could be some moments of joy in this life.

_**

* * *

A/N: **__As always, thanks for reading!_


	21. Chapter 20 Redcliffe Part 2

_**Author's Note: **_Sorry again for the long delay between chapters. I quit my job, moved to a different state, and then managed to find a new job. Unfortunately, that didn't leave much time to update this story.

I hope that you still find the story interesting, and I welcome any feedback.

As always, thank you for reading!

* * *

Throughout the course of her life, Amee could only remember entering three taverns. The first was just across the lake from the Circle. Duncan had brought her there the night he had recruited her to be a Warden. The second had been in Lothering, where she and her companions had been greeted by an ambush. And now, Amee stood in the rather somber tavern of Redcliffe. She had situated herself near the bar, leaning back against the counter. From there, she could overhear Hildra bartering with the barkeep Lloyd and could see Torval partaking in a round of ale with members of the town's militia.

Their party of Wardens had broken up after Bryon began asking one of the patrons a few questions. The individual was a male elf named Berwick, who seemed oddly out of place in the tavern. He had answered Bryon's questions nervously, contradicting himself at times, and Bryon had caught every slip. The nobleman didn't relent in his interrogation until Berwick had revealed that he was in fact a spy for Arl Howe. Once Bryon learned that piece of information, he told Amee and the others to leave him alone with the elf.

Amee hesitated for a moment, but ultimately followed Hildra to the bar. She was worried about what Bryon might do. He had been acting purposefully throughout the day, with the task of saving Redcliffe clearly at the forefront of his mind, but now his mood seemed stormy and his eyes violent after the mention of Arl Howe. Amee feared Bryon might become so swept up in his rage and need for vengeance that he might do something to Berwick that he would otherwise regret.

Amee breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Berwick rise from the table and leave the tavern. Bryon still looked angry where he sat, but Amee thought he might just need time to calm down. Trying to give him a bit of the privacy she thought he might need, Amee turned around to focus her attention on the wares Lloyd was showing to Hildra.

Suddenly, Amee felt a tight grip around her wrist and then found herself being pulled toward the kitchen. She looked to see Bryon leading her to a small, dark nook just beyond the main dining area. Before she could protest or question Bryon, Amee was pressed against a wall and silenced with a searing kiss.

Amee was quickly overcome by the passion and desperation that radiated from Bryon. She surrendered all control to him, her body eagerly complying with his every wordless demand. Her lips parted as his tongue sought entrance to her mouth, and her chest leaned into his touch as one of his hands cupped her breast.

His other arm firmly wrapped around her waist, pinning her body to his. Amee was trapped in Bryon's embrace, but she could think of no place where she would rather be imprisoned. Her heart was pounding and her moans were growing louder with each caress and squeeze from Bryon's skilled hands. She wanted more; she wanted him closer, buried deep inside of her, and bringing her the complete satisfaction that had been denied during their last private encounter.

But all too soon Bryon was stopping himself, pulling his lips away and not returning them to her body. She whimpered at the separation, but Bryon put one finger on her lips and kept their bodies in a tight embrace. His hand then moved away from her lips to weave itself into her hair and draw her face closer to his.

"Tomorrow morning," Bryon began, his voice breathless and pleading, "after we've defeated the undead monsters that plague this town and after we've put our pasts behind us—then—then I will make love to you like no man has ever made love to a woman in all the history of Thedas."

"Why wait?" Amee whispered, knowing she sounded wanton. She knew what she wanted and she was tired of all the troubles of the world standing in her way.

"Because you're important to me," he replied earnestly. "I've had too many people taken away from me of late," he said as his grip on her tightened, "and I never let them know what they meant to me. I'm not going to make the same mistake with you; I'm not going to rush through being with you or make you settle for only a few stolen moments of pleasure. No, I'm going to make love to you until you know how I feel for you—and I'm going to take my time doing it."

Amee shivered in Bryon's arms as his words reached all the sensitive spots of her body that his fingers had been unable to touch.

"Tomorrow then?" Bryon asked, as he gazed intently into Amee's eyes.

"Tomorrow," Amee replied, nodding in agreement to Bryon's proposal.

They shared another deep, yet brief, kiss, and then managed to break away from each other—Bryon heading to check on Torval and Amee going back to Hildra.

Amee knew how she must look, emerging from a dark corner with tousled hair and swollen lips, but she couldn't bring herself to care. If sunset weren't fast approaching, Amee would have kept Bryon in that corner and shown him what he meant to her. She had such overwhelming feelings for him and, although she didn't know if she could describe those feelings in words yet, she was certain that her body could do the talking.

"I suppose it's a good thing that the effects of being a Warden have fully kicked in for me," Hildra began when Amee once again settled in beside her, "or else I might not understand your incessant urges to go sneaking off with him."

"What do you mean?" Amee asked, puzzled.

"Based on the way I've been feeling, and based on the way certain members of our party have been acting, I would have to guess that food isn't the only thing we crave more of now that we're Wardens."

Amee had never considered that possibility, but now that Hildra had mentioned it, her theory did make some sort of sense. Amee had never acted the way she was acting now—throwing herself at a man and lusting for his touch. It hadn't been this way with Jowan, even though she had cared for her fellow mage quite deeply before and during their intimacy.

Amee suddenly began to question her feelings for Bryon, wondering whether they were real or brought on by her becoming a Warden. She tried to remember how she felt about him before she was a Warden but soon realized that her feelings could have changed either because she became a Warden or because she had gotten to know him better. She couldn't deny that she wanted Bryon, but she didn't feel comfortable wanting him just because she was now a Warden.

"How can we know whether or not you're right, Hildra? I don't think Alistair would be much help in this area, and I can't think of a way to prove or disprove it."

"Well," Hildra replied, "I don't know that I can definitively prove it. All I know is that I never gave topsiders a second look when they would visit Orzammar, but now when I look at that human boy of yours I see…well…I see, in the words of the casteless, a bronto I'd be willing to buck."

Amee's elation from her rendezvous with Bryon was abruptly coming to end. On top of her fears about whether Redcliffe would survive the night, Amee now worried whether what she and Bryon shared was real or merely another product of the darkspawn blood she had drank at Ostagar. After thinking on it, only one means of testing the theory came to Amee's mind. She had found over the last few days that her ravenous appetite could be satiated with practically any type of food. Amee now wondered that if her feelings for Bryon were just another craving brought on by being a Warden, would any man be able satisfy her needs? And if what she had with Bryon turned out to be real? Would it really be worth it to risk their relationship just to test Hildra's theory?

Amee felt as if she didn't have any answers—nor did she have time to try to find them. The sun was setting in the distance, which meant it was time for the Wardens to go defend the village.

* * *

For some inexplicable reason, dreading the nightfall seemed to hasten its arrival. Before Bena knew it, it was time for her party and the townspeople to take up their positions and prepare for the fight. Bryon had taken half of their group up the cliff side leading to the castle, while Bena and the others stood guard at the center of the town in front of the Chantry. Bryon's location seemed to be the more dangerous, because the undead creatures were apparently originating from the castle. Bena knew that Bryon had wanted it that way—for her to be in the somewhat safer position—but she also knew she wouldn't let him face trouble alone. Earlier in the day she had seen to it that there were enough recruits defending Redcliffe so that reinforcements could move from one location to another without leaving a spot completely vulnerable.

In fact, Bena had been surprised at how successful her enlistment efforts had been with Sten and Morrigan working alongside her. When her persuasiveness had failed to sway certain individuals to join their cause, Sten's threats or Morrigan's insults somehow managed to convince them to help. There was now a decent-sized force spread throughout Redcliffe ready to defend the town.

And it quickly turned out that they needed everyone they had. The battle was brutal—with enemies attacking from both sides. As predicted, a horde of the undead creatures came down from the castle, but this night, another group also emerged from the lake, leaving no place safe in the town.

The fighting was gruesome. Bena would normally take down her opponents with quick, incisive strikes to the weak points of the body, but that fighting style wasn't working against these things. She could slit their throats or stab them in the chest, but they would still keep coming. They were already dead, which seemed to mean they lacked the same vulnerabilities as living beings. Bena was forced to adapt. Instead of her usual in-and-out technique, she had to remain close to the creatures, delivering repeated hits until the monsters could no longer fight.

It was the most disgusting thing Bena had ever been faced with in her life. The rotting flesh of the creatures filled the air with a rancid odor, and their appearance matched their smell. Their decayed skin was green and brown and festering. It took all of Bena's willpower to bite back the bile that threatened to rise up in her throat during the battle. She knew she needed to be focused on her opponents and not the outpouring of her stomach's contents, but that was proving to be quite difficult.

By some miracle of the Maker, though, Bena managed to get through that horrible night. Her companions and the townspeople thankfully suffered only minimal casualties and seemed ready to celebrate at the sun's first light. Unfortunately for them, Bena knew there was still work to be done. Her first order at dawn was for the injured to report to the Chantry for medical attention. Her second order was for every able-bodied person to help move the remains of the creatures outside of town and burn them.

When that task was done, Bena finally took a moment to rest along the lakeshore. She picked a spot in the sand and practically collapsed onto the ground. She felt exhausted after last night's exertions and after days—or perhaps even weeks—without a restful sleep. Time, among other things, was beginning to blur for her. She didn't know how long she could keep going if she didn't find a way to take a moment and recover. But looking down at her gloved hands, Bena knew that now was not that moment.

Dried blood and small fragments of rotten flesh from those creatures had become encrusted on her armor and skin—an unavoidable consequence of having to fight the undead in close proximity. Before she let herself become ill at the sight, Bena quickly crawled to the water. Frantically, she removed her gloves and scrubbed away the last remnants of those things until every inch of her exposed skin was rubbed raw.

Feeling a need to be even cleaner, Bena undid her braid. Then, on her knees at the water's edge, she bent over, dunking her head upside down into the lake. She ran her fingers through her hair, combing out the locks under the water. It felt so refreshing that Bena was tempted to strip down to nothing and immerse her whole body in the water, despite the fact that she was out in the open in broad daylight.

She was just about to reach for the clasps of her armor when she heard a voice yell, "Bena!" It startled her, and she quickly shot up, flinging her hair behind her.

Bena saw Alistair swiftly jogging toward her. He stopped a few feet from her and anxiously asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied. "Is something the matter?"

"No," he muttered sheepishly. "I just couldn't find you, and then I saw your head in the water and I panicked."

Bena saw clearly that he had been worried for her, and she couldn't help but find it endearing. She had come to realize that his protectiveness didn't arise from a doubt in her abilities, but was rather just a part of his kind and chivalrous nature.

"It's nothing to worry about, Alistair. I just needed to clean myself up," she explained.

"I can understand," he replied. "Last night did get a bit grimy."

"Yes, it did," Bena said as she tried to wring out the water from her hair. She didn't have the energy to properly dry it, so she let the droplets run down her neck and armor.

"Oh, you're dripping," Alistair said as he watched her. "Let me help you with that."

Before Bena could protest, Alistair had reached into his pack and retrieved a clean shirt. He then kneeled beside her and wrapped the shirt around one of his hands. Gently, he took up her hair and began to rub it dry with the fabric. When he reached her head, he began to massage her scalp as he worked, soothing Bena in a way that she hadn't experienced in what seemed like an eternity.

A moan escaped her lips, and suddenly Alistair's hand froze. Bena opened her eyes to look at him—unable to remember when she had closed her eyes or when she had tilted her head back to be closer to his touch.

Alistair swallowed hard as their eyes met then quickly looked away. "I should let you finish this," he muttered before dropping the shirt into her hands.

It looked as if he were on the verge of running away, but Bena found she didn't want that. She started a conversation with him in hopes that he would stay. "You were really quite good at drying hair," she said.

"Well, I've had a bit of practice," he replied as he kept his eyes and hand occupied with a round stone from the shore.

"What do you mean?" Bena asked, puzzled.

"I used to clean the horses' hair when I groomed them. Most of them had long manes too."

"When did you groom horses?"

"When Isolde married Eamon—she had me move out to the stables."

"She made you live in the stables?" Bena asked in disbelief at Isolde's cruelty.

"It was her and Eamon's initial compromise," Alistair began. "Isolde couldn't stand the sight of me, but Eamon wanted to keep me here, so they agreed I should stay in the stables. I lived there until Isolde couldn't take that anymore either and then I was shipped off."

Even though he wasn't looking her in the eye, Bena could still discern Alistair's sadness from his face and voice. Gently, she reached out and pressed her hand to his cheek.

Alistair started to pull away slightly, saying, "You don't have to—"

"She shouldn't have treated you like that, Alistair," Bena interrupted, keeping her hand where it was and rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone.

"She thought I was her husband's bastard," Alistair replied, wrapping his fingers around her hand and removing it from his face. He kept hold of the hand, though, as he added, "How would you feel if you were married and you thought your husband was off fathering children in other women's beds?"

"I wouldn't have punished those children for it," Bena said firmly, becoming somewhat heated. "And I'm not just saying that—I've thought about it," she added to back up her argument. "I had no disillusions about the marriage I was going to enter into. I knew that Thomas Howe wasn't going to be faithful to me, and I was determined not to blame the children he would have fathered."

"Why wouldn't he have been faithful to you?" Alistair asked, sounding as if he couldn't believe what she had just said.

"Because he didn't love me, Alistair, nor I him. For as long as I've known him, he's been a spoiled, selfish, cruel man, and I could never bring myself to care for him. And all he ever wanted of me was my dowry and a higher rank in society. So no, I didn't expect a man like that to be faithful."

Bena turned her eyes downward, trying not to let the discussion or her exhaustion overwhelm her. Then, suddenly she felt Alistair's hand squeezing hers. His other hand went to her cheek and tilted her face upwards to look at his.

"Don't think about him," Alistair said softly. "He doesn't deserve you, and he's never going to have you if I have any say in it."

Bena noticed Alistair's eyes glance down to her lips. She couldn't help but want him to kiss her. She had only had two kissing experiences in her life—the brief, parting kiss she had given Gilmore before she fled her home and a disgusting, harsh kiss that Thomas had forced upon her when they were younger. Now she wanted something real—a good kiss from a good man. She needed it after everything she had been through. Her anticipation grew as she felt Alistair lean forward, but then suddenly he shook his head and pulled away.

"I need to get you back to Bryon," he sputtered.

* * *

_What was I thinking? _Alistair asked himself. He had just been about to kiss Bena when he realized he couldn't go through with it. It wasn't that he didn't want to kiss her—in truth, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. And her lips had looked so inviting too, pink and succulent and set perfectly on that sweet face of hers.

But it wasn't right. Alistair could see the exhaustion in her eyes and knew that stealing a kiss from her now would be taking advantage of her. The last thing Alistair wanted was for Bena to be angry with him for kissing her or for her to regret their first kiss.

And that was what Alistair wanted to have—a _first _kiss—meaning the first of many. He wanted their first kiss to be special enough that Bena would want to kiss him again, and he didn't want to jeopardize that possibility by making the wrong move now.

So as quickly as he could, he came up with an excuse to back out of it. He pulled back and mumbled something about needing to get her back to Bryon. It was the truth—he had seen Bryon before he had walked to the lakeshore, and Bena's brother actually had been looking for her.

"Bryon was trying to find you earlier," Alistair explained to her. "And when I last saw him, he looked rather angry. If I'm the reason you can't be found, he'll no doubt aim that anger in my direction."

For a moment, Alistair thought he saw disappointment flash upon Bena's face as he let go of her entirely and began to stand. Before he could confirm it, though, her features returned to her usual mask of calmness and control as she asked, "Why was Bryon angry?"

"I don't know for certain," Alistair replied. "All I know is that Teagan went to Bryon almost immediately after the battle and asked for his help with a few things. From Bryon's expression, I believe your brother had other plans in mind, but I can't imagine what."

Once Alistair was on his feet, he helped Bena to hers. They then began to walk back to the town, and Bena inquired, "Did you hear what Teagan wanted from Bryon?"

"No, but I would guess that he wants us to find out what's going on inside the castle," Alistair answered. He noticed a quiver run through Bena's body in response. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Fine. I'm just not looking forward to going in there and having to fight off more of those things."

"Yes, it is a rather unpleasant prospect," Alistair replied solemnly.

"It would be easier if I could have some sort of distance from them. With my daggers, it takes so much effort to hack away at them, and I have to stay so close to them—I can see the people they once were before they became possessed, vile corpses."

Alistair didn't know what to say. Part of him wanted to tell her to stay in the Chantry where she would be safe from those walking nightmares, but another part of him knew she would take offense at being told to stay behind. He eventually settled on levity.

"You could always try a greatsword. Albeit, most of those swords are taller than you and probably weigh more than you, but if you could keep one outstretched and spin around for a bit, I bet you could scare off anything that comes near you."

"Including my friends," Bena replied with reddening cheeks and a smile upon her face. Alistair couldn't help but grin at her reaction; he loved making her smile.

"Thank you for your suggestion, Alistair," Bena added. "But I think I would have trouble effectively wielding a longsword, let alone a greatsword."

"You've never fought with a longsword?" Alistair asked more seriously, realizing now that a longsword would help her to take down the undead more quickly and at a greater distance.

"I've been taught how to fight with one, but the weight of a longsword just doesn't work with my fighting style. They're heavy blades, and they throw off my speed and balance."

Suddenly an idea came to Alistair's mind. "I think I may have a solution," he said. "Wait here."

Bena quirked her eyebrow and stood where he had told her to, clearly curious about what he would suggest next. Alistair then ran to where he had stored his extra supplies the night before. Among the items was something long and wrapped in cloth. He retrieved that object and quickly brought it back to Bena.

"What is it?" she asked as Alistair began to remove the wrappings. He soon revealed a longsword under the cloth, kept in a green sheath. "It looks like a curved sword, Alistair," Bena began. "But I don't think a different shape will make it any easier for me to use."

"Just try it," he said, extending the handle of the blade to her.

Bena did as he asked and slowly unsheathed the sword, revealing its intricate designs and green tint. Once it was in her hand, she took a moment to get a feel for the blade—swinging it, twirling it, and finally lunging forward with it. Alistair was so transfixed with the grace of her movements that he was almost sad to see her stop.

"Remarkable," Bena commented with awe apparent in her voice. "It's so light, yet sturdy. I've never seen a longsword like this."

"Nor I," Alistair said, smiling once again.

"Where did you find it?"

"One of the villagers had it," Alistair replied. "She gave it to me for finding her brother and bringing him back to the Chantry before the attack last night."

"This sword must be quite valuable," Bena said.

"I didn't steal it from her," Alistair said quickly and nervously, worried that Bena might think he had exploited a girl in need. "I paid for the blade—enough for the girl and her brother to go to Denerim and start over."

"I never thought you stole this sword, Alistair. In fact, if I had been in that girl's position and you had brought Bryon back to me alive, I would have given you anything you wanted, free of charge."

Alistair swallowed hard as thoughts of what he would want from Bena flooded his mind. He wanted to run his fingers through her silken hair again—not to dry it but just to be that close to her. He wanted to touch her—not just as a momentary comfort but for as long as he desired. And Maker help him, he wanted to wrap her in his arms, rest his hand upon her cheek, and caress her lips with his until he could hear her moan for him once more.

Alistair knew it was just wishful-thinking, but then he thought back to his conversation with Leliana and Ellana the prior day—that he might be able to show his affection for Bena through some sort of gift or token and that she might show him affection in return. He had planned to give her something a bit more romantic, but now decided to wait to give her that particular gift. Seeing the way she admired the blade, Alistair knew what he should do. "You should keep it," he said.

"Oh no, I couldn't," Bena replied. "It's your sword, Alistair. You earned it."

"But you can make better use of it," Alistair retorted. "Just as you prefer light weapons, I prefer heavy ones. I need weight behind my blade or everything feels off. And besides, you showed more skill with that sword in a few practice swings than I ever could."

"I have to repay you for it, though. It's worth far too much for you to just give it to me as a gift."

"Then agree to spar with me on occasion. I could learn a great deal from training with someone with your fighting style, and it would give you more opportunity to practice with the sword," Alistair replied, amazed at how quickly he had come up with a clever solution to the problem. Bena would be able to feel as if she were offering him compensation for the blade, and Alistair would have an excuse to spend more time with her. "Would this be acceptable?" he asked, trying not to sound overly anxious for her to agree.

Alistair's heart leapt as soon as he saw a smile spreading across her face. "I could hardly refuse such terms, Alistair," Bena replied. Then suddenly, she was next to him, her hand on his forearm. She went up on her toes and planted a kiss on the side of his face. She had no doubt meant to kiss him on the cheek, but instead had hit the corner of his mouth.

Just as Bena returned her heels to the ground, they could hear Amee in the distance. "Bena! Alistair! Bryon needs everyone at the windmill now!" the elf mage yelled.

"On our way," Bena replied. Then, more quietly, she turned back to Alistair and said, "I guess we should be going."

Alistair did what he could to nod in agreement. Once again, Bena had sent his heart pumping and his head spinning with the slightest of contact. And this time it had been a kiss—almost upon his lips! He desperately wanted to turn her around and kiss her outright, but he knew with Bryon beckoning and Redcliffe still in trouble that now was not the best moment for that. He had received one kiss from Bena and her promise that they could spend more time together—for now, that was enough.


End file.
